Brothers by Choice
by smolbean17
Summary: Peter Parker and Peter Quill find themselves in the middle of nowhere, lost and injured, while their friends fight an impossible war.
1. chapter 1

Peter didn't know how it happened.

They were fighting. The Avengers and the Guardians and the Wakandans all together in one last ditch effort to prevent the apocalypse from happening. It was going pretty well, he thought. And he felt amazing! Knowing that he was able to help in something as extraordinary as this. Knowing that he could do something good for others. Maybe prove himself further to Mr. Stark.

But like most things in Peter's seventeen years, it all went to crap pretty quickly.

They were overrun by Thanos' henchmen. The "Black Order" they called themselves. Peter thought that would make a killer goth band name.

He watched as his friends tried to hold them off from getting to the red android guy. He had an Infinity Stone attached to his head. And Thanos was desperate to get to it.

He slung web after web in an attempt to distract the enemy. But they were strong. The largest one, who easily stood 15 feet high, with scaly skin and large spiky tusk things on his jaw lumbered towards him. Peter yelped and volted high into the air, dislodging sticky webs into his assailant's face. Tusky roared in fury, yelling obscenities in a language Peter couldn't understand.

Peter whooped, and continued leaping around the giant, throwing web after web at him until he was almost completely immobilized.

He noticed someone land heavily beside him. It was the Star guy. Star-God or something like that. Quill. That's right. He liked Quill. He was funny and he had good taste in music. Movies, not so much. But there was an air of cheerful youth about the man that drew Peter to him. If Quill were in highschool they'd probably be best friends. Maybe, once all this was over and the world was saved, he'd invite him to Queens. Give him a tour of New York and show him how to build his Lego Death Star set with Ned. Aunt May would love him.

Quill shot a quick nod Peter's way, raising his blasters and letting loose a volley of energy blasts into Tusky's face, who yelled in fury and pain. Peter could almost feel the smile behind Quill's mask. He flipped through the air, using his boots to propel him up and over the monster, smacking him on the head with his gun for good measure.

 _So sick_ , Peter thought.

Spiderman stuck his tongue out in concentration, ready to finish the job with his new teammate when suddenly Tusky managed to get one of his massive arms free. He batted Quill out of the air like a fly, and swung his arm towards Peter, who easily leapt to the side to avoid the hit. But he deeply underestimated Tusky's reflexes, because the moment he thought he was in the clear, the other giant arm came sailing towards him.

It crashed right onto Peter's left shoulder and upper chest, denting the metal of his Iron Spider suit and throwing him to the ground. He cried out in agony as he heard a faint 'pop,' the pain blinding him.

He gasped and tried to roll over, do anything to avoid being killed. But black spots littered his vision and he _couldn't move_ and _where was Mr. Stark?_

He blinked his eyes open and desperately sought out the red and gold armor he was so familiar with. But he couldn't find it anywhere. A pit formed in his stomach. He hoped Mr. Stark was okay.

The ground shook as Tusky bounded towards him, raising a large, hammer type weapon in his hand. He held it over his head and swung it down directly towards Peter.

Peter closed his eyes, preparing for his end. Mr. Stark would be so disappointed.

But before the awful crash of the weapon came down on him, he was snatched from the ground.

 _Flying,_ he thought absently. He looked up at his rescuer.

"Star-Man," was all he could manage to mutter. His vision faded in and out.

Quill looked down at him, mask still activated. He snorted, "Close enough, kid." They soared high above the carnage.

"Where... goin'?" Peter mumbled, wondering why Quill was taking him away from the fight rather than back towards it.

"Gettin' you to safety." Quill responded, adjusting his hold on Peter's good shoulder.

"Gotta fight," Peter tried to remove himself from Quill's grasp, but stopped when he remembered that they were 40 feet above ground.

"Yeah, no." Quill said, darting quickly to the side as a wayward blast came their way. "You got hit pretty bad, it's too danger-"

A whoosh of air, an impact, a grunt of pain, and they were falling.

Falling right into the raging war below.

The ground rushed up to meet them fast, and Peter found himself wondering why the war had to be in the middle of a freaking African savannah instead of in a city surrounded by buildings. There was no place for him to shoot his webs. Just open air. No way for him to save them.

They probably wouldn't die falling from that height. At least he wouldn't, with his spider enhanced body and advanced healing. He couldn't say the same for Quill.

Just as they were about to hit, a firey orange ring opened up below them. Instead of crashing to the hard ground, they were crashing into cold water.

Peter gasped at the impact, mouth filling with water. His arm felt like it had been ripped off. Maybe it was, he thought. His vision darkened again and he felt himself sinking down, the black water beckoning him to sleep.

He really wanted to sleep. He hoped Quill had made it out okay. As he drifted away, he thought of May. He hoped she was safe. Happy. He knew Mr. Stark would make sure she was. He thought of Uncle Ben. His parents. Maybe now he'd be able to see them again.

He let the darkness consume him.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter jolted awake, panicked and coughing up water. Sturdy arms held him on his side as he tried to expel the liquid from his aching lungs.

"It's okay, I got you," he heard someone say. They patted his back, urging him to calm down.

He blearily opened his eyes, turning his head to his savior.

"Mr. Lord"

A pause. "Yes. It's me. Mr. Lord,"

"Hah." Peter grimaced, and tried rolling onto his back, only to be stopped by a shock of pain down his left side. He gasped. Quill halted his movements with a hand on his chest.

"Shit, kid. Take it easy. Just had to resuscitate you back there. Don't really wanna have to do it again."

"Wha-?" Peter asked. His mind was so fuzzy. So confused.

He took in his surroundings. Quill hovered above him, eyebrows furrowed in concern. He was soaking wet, his hair plastered to his face. He had a couple bad scratches on his temple and lip, and he seemed to be favoring his side, but otherwise he looked like he was fine.

Peter sighed in relief, laying his head down. The sun shone brightly above them. The air was quiet, the only sound was the rustling of the trees swaying in the wind. Wait. Trees? "Where are we?" He managed to find his voice.

Quill sighed, "I don't know."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I have no idea. One second we were flying, then that freaking Elephant Man threw his hammer at me and knocked us outta the sky. We fell into a lake and now we're here." Quill waved his hands in the air, as if to emphasize his point. "Middle of who knows where."

Peter's mind couldn't quite catch up at the moment, the pain was so dizzying. Despite his body's protestations, he tried to sit up.

"Here," Quill reached under his good arm, gently hoisting him up. The man eyed the teen up and down, his jaw setting in worry. "We gotta get that suit off you. Your shoulder's dislocated."

Peter glanced down at his left shoulder. The suit was bent and warped around the limb. He could feel jagged pieces of metal poking his skin. But the worst pain radiated over his chest. He blanched.

"Hey man, don't go passing out on me, okay?" Quill steadied him when he pitched to one side. "I need you to tell me how to get this thing off of you."

"Stark, he... there's a button or something," Peter fumbled, trying to remember what exactly it was Mr. Stark had told him to do if the suit got jammed. He stared at the metal spider on his chest. The spider. He placed his hand against it, pressing and holding. Hoping it would work. Slowly but surely, the nanites retracted back into the little spider, leaving him in his spandex suit. He gasped as the pressure was relieved on his lungs.

"Shit," Quill swore. Peter followed his gaze.

Lodged in his shoulder were several small shards of metal.

"Oh," was all Peter could say, blood rushed from his head, and he fell forward for the millionth time that day.

"Hey, no no, kid. You're okay." Quill sat in front of him, taking his full weight. "You're okay. We're gonna get you patched up. Okay?"

Peter didn't answer. His pupils were blown out and he looked like he was going to be sick.

"C'mere," Quill stood up, reaching under Peter's good arm and lifting him, "Let's find somewhere more comfortable."

They walked slowly towards where the trees were more dense. Peter was sure he was gonna pass out. But he willed himself to stay awake just a bit longer.

They finally reached a large tree. Quill lowered Peter down carefully onto the ground, resting his back against the trunk.

"You okay?" Quill asked, kneeling next to him.

"Wha's... wha's it look like?" Peter quipped. His chest heaved from exhertion.

Quill barked a laugh. "Yeah, I figured. Looks like it hurts like a bitch."

"It does," Peter said, voice small. He closed his eyes, willing the pain away.

"You might not like to hear this, but we gotta get those out," Quill motioned to the metal pieces sticking out of Peter's skin.

"I think I'll jus' leave 'em, thanks," Peter knew that it'd hurt. He didn't want to hurt anymore. He just wanted to sleep.

"Sure," Quill smirked, pulling a long red piece of fabric out of his jacket. It looked like a scarf. He unraveled it, ripping it into strips.

"What're you doin'?" Peter asked as Quill wrapped one of the strips over his hand and fingers.

"Don't wanna cut up my hand when I do this," he replied.

"Do what?"

He didn't get an answer though, and suddenly Quill was crouching over him, one hand on his chest and the other yanking a shard from his flesh.

Peter cried out, wrapping his fingers tightly around Quill's wrist at his chest, heels digging into the ground below him.

"Like ripping off a bandaid. Except, like, 12 bandaids. And ten times more painful." Quill dropped the shard on the grass, and looked Peter in the eyes. He lowered his voice, "Sorry about that, kid. The first one's always the worst. Better to just get it over with."

"Yeah," Peter wheezed, trying to gather air back into his lungs.

Quill adjusted the fabric on his hands, "Kinda lame question, but I don't know your name. As much as I'd like to keep referring to you as Spidey-Kid or Baby Long Legs, I think we should get on a first name basis. Especially now that we're stranded together God knows where." He ripped out another shard.

"Parker... Peter." He grit out, squeezing his eyes shut.

When Quill didn't say anything back, he opened his eyes.

Peter had never seen someone look so overjoyed.

"Your name's Peter?!" Quill asked, ecstatic.

Peter nodded, uncertain of why the man was grinning like he'd won the lottery.

"I'M Peter too!!" He laughed, dropping the shard from his hand like it was no big deal that he had to manually extract metal from someone's flesh.

"No kidding," he breathed. Despite the excruciating pain, he couldn't help but he amused at the man's sheer excitement.

"That's awesome! I don't even know how long it's been since I've met another Peter. I mean, I know it was a pretty common name on Terra before I left." Another shard, "But now there're TWO kickass Peters fighting the same freaking war. This is awesome man," Another shard, "Freaking awesome."

Quill kept talking, running his mouth like a motor boat as he carefully removed the shards, one by one, and dropped them on the dirt. Peter couldn't help but squirm each time a slice of metal slid from his skin, but the talking was somehow helping. Dulling the pain. Peter was great at talking, great at trying to use his words to get out of rough spots, but this guy... he was on a whole new level.

"That's the last one," Quill said, the shard hitting the others on the ground with a 'plink.'

"What... already?!" Peter sputtered. There were at least a dozen shards in his body, but when he looked down, all he could see was free flowing blood from his shoulder.

"Yep." Quill pulled a canteen from his pocket, and some sort of vial filled with creamy liquid.

"But, that was so fast!" Peter couldn't believe it was over.

"I distracted you," Quill winked, "one of my superpowers."

Peter sighed, thudding his head against the tree behind him. "Just glad it's done." He whispered.

Quill grimaced, "Sorry to break it to you Petey - can I call you Petey? I'm calling you Petey." He poured water from the canteen onto Peter's shoulder. "You're not quite out of the woods yet."

Peter was about to make a snarky comment about how they were actually _in_ the woods this very moment, but bit his tongue when he saw how serious Quill's face was.

"What's wrong?" He almost didn't want to know.

"Well, for one thing, your shoulder is still dislocated," Quill opened up the vial with the strange fluid. "This is gonna sting," he warned, pouring the liquid onto a pad of fabric and dabbing it on the cuts. Peter hissed. It felt like needles.

Quill tore off a few more fresh strips of cloth and placed them over the wounds. "And it looks like that's not the only problem..." his words faded off and he brought his hand over to Peter's collarbone, pressing slightly.

Peter gasped, his eyes flying wide open.

"Yep. Broken." Quill surmised, pulling his hand away and putting it on top of Peter's head, green eyes meeting dark brown, "Look kid. I know you've had a rough day. But I gotta reset your shoulder or else it's gonna heal all wrong."

Peter gulped, nodding slowly. He could feel his legs trembling. "What about my collarbone?"

"There's nothing we can do about that. We can make you a sling, but it's gonna have to heal on its own." Quill's tone was dark and apologetic.

"O-okay," Peter's voice wavered.

"Alright," Quill moved into position, one hand over Peter's chest and the other wrapped around his bad arm.

"Wait!" Peter said, voice a couple octaves higher than they should be, "Can you, I-I don't know, distract me like last time?"

Quill gave him a wan smile that didn't reach his eyes, "I don't think that'll be much help here, Petey."

"Oh."

"Okay. On the count of three. One. Two-" Quill rotated Peter's arm into an "L" shape, and the joint snapped back into place with a crack.

Peter couldn't even find it in himself to scream. The pain completely overtook him, ravaged his senses, and he could do nothing more than pass out.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter drifted in and out, only processing swirls of colors and sounds and pain.

Every once in a while he could hear someone speaking beside him. Sometimes he'd pick up a word or two. Sometimes a string of words. But then his head would feel all fuzzy and he'd drift off again.

So he let himself dream.

He dreamt of flying. Swooping from building to building. Helping people.

He dreamt of Ned and his friends. Dreamt that they all grew up and went to college and lived their dreams. That he finally got up the courage to ask MJ out. That she actually said yes.

He dreamt of family. Uncle Ben and May and his parents. Mr. Stark. All together. Smiling. The Avengers and the Guardians and everyone safe and well and _alive._ The world saved.

Then his dreams shifted.

He dreamt of failure. Being a disappointment to everyone he loved. He wasn't quick enough. Wasn't smart enough or brave enough. And the world suffered.

Thanos got the stones. Every single one of them. And it was all his fault.

The world crumbled to dust.

Peter struggled to open his eyes, his senses slowly coming back to him. The pain registered first, of course, because why wouldn't it? He fisted his hands together as a wave of throbbing hurt washed over him. He bit down on his tongue, his mouth felt dry and gritty. What he wouldn't give for some water.

Next came smell. The acrid scent of sweat and blood filled his nostrils. His blood, he thought. He hoped he hadn't lost too much.

Then came sound.

"-and that was the first time I successfully killed someone with a potato."

His eyes opened into slits. Quill knelt slightly ahead of him, snapping twigs and throwing them into a small, crackling fire.

Night had fallen over wherever they were. Brilliant fireflies danced around, cicadas chirped. The air was crisp and cool, and Peter couldn't stifle his

groan as he shivered.

Quill's head shot up at the sound, and he turned to Peter, a slight grin on his face.

"Petey! You're awake!" He stood up and walked over, crouching beside him, "How do you feel?"

Peter didn't answer, instead offering a half smile and a lazy thumbs up.

"Hey, at least you're not puking your guts out or dying or anything, that's a good sign." Quill knelt down, gently pulling away the spandex that covered his shoulder wound. Peter glanced down, finding that his bad arm was held in a sling, his shoulder bound in deep red fabric.

Quill frowned, "I changed your bandages a couple hours ago, but it looks like you've already bled through." The man stood up, walking over to the edge of the clearing near the fire. Hanging on a cord between two trees were more strips of red fabric. He pulled them down, returning to Peter's side.

"Do you feel lightheaded?" He asked.

Peter bit out a crackly, "No."

"Good." Quill nodded, unraveling the blood soaked bandages.

"How long have I been out?" It felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to his vocal chords.

"About 10 hours."

"What?!" Peter sputtered. There was no way. He couldn't have been. So much could happen in 10 hours. The war... "We gotta get back!" He jolted forward, moving to stand.

"Whoa whoa whoa! Take it easy kid!" Quill objected,

pushing down against Peter's abdomen. "Don't go messin' up all my handiwork!"

"But the others! Thanos, he's gonna get the Infinity Stones!" Peter was panicking, voice rising and heart thumping violently against his chest. He was on the verge of hyperventilating. "We're gonna be too late and they're all gonna die and-"

His words were cut off as Quill brought a hand over Peter's mouth.

"Not gonna happen," he stared the teen down, removing his hand and bringing it to rest on his good shoulder. "Not in a million years. You wanna know why?"

Peter drew in a shaky breath and nodded his head slowly.

"Because our friends? They're badasses. Some of the most badass people in the Galaxy." Quill grinned animatedly. "King T'Cholula, or whatever his name is? Badass. THE Captain freaking America? Badass. Thor?... Well actually, he's probably doomed. At least he's got Rocket and Groot with him. I'd say his chances are a good 50/50. But your dad? Badass."

Peter interrupted, "Wait. My... dad?"

"Well, yeah. Isn't Stark your dad?"

"...no."

A pause.

"Huh. Well, coulda fooled me." Quill continued cleaning Peter's wounds, dabbing more of that stinging medicine. "I'm just saying, it's gonna be okay. And my girl Gamora?" He whistled. "She's probably the most badass out of all of us. Once she escapes from wherever she is... game over man. That purple nutsack doesn't stand a chance."

Peter nodded and sat back, his heart rate returning to some semblance of normalcy. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Mr. Stark, smiling and waving for the crowds, having saved the world yet again. Everyone happy and cheering and living. He and Quill would have found their way back, warm embraces of friends and families waiting for them. He'd go back to school and make out with MJ and get some huge scholarship somewhere. Recruit his own team of Avengers (Quill would definitely be on it, if he wanted) Start a family and get a nice, big house for May in Upper State. Save the world a couple more times. Live out his days happy and guilt free.

"It's gonna be okay. You'll see." Quill tied off the bandages and clapped Peter gently on the shoulder.

He scooped up the dirty bandages and stood. And maybe it was just a trick of the light. Maybe it was Peter's advanced senses that allowed him to see things more clearly, but he caught the slightest look of pain cross Quill's face as he lifted off the ground.

"Are you okay?" Peter chanced as Quill walked over to the edge of the lake, bending down to rinse the bloodied bandages.

Quill looked over his shoulder as he wrung out the fabric, "Me? Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"You looked a bit pale there for a second."

"Oh. Yeah, Elephant Guy got me with his hammer thing when he knocked us out of the sky." He motioned to his torso. "Gave me a nasty bruise. Think I might've cracked a rib or two. But I'm okay." He flashed a grin as he came back over to the fire, slinging the wet rags over the cord on the trees. He stoked the fire with a stick.

"You know a lot about this stuff," Peter noted. Quill raised an eyebrow, "Healing I mean."

Quill nodded in understanding, "I mean, I'm no doctor. But you spend a few cycles in the Keystone Quadrant and you learn what you have to to survive." He blew into the fire.

"How long have you been away from Earth?" Peter asked.

"Oh man, I don't know. Years." He huffed. "I was taken when I was eight, back in '88."

"1988? How old _are_ you?" Peter smiled.

"Hey! Not _that_ old!"

Peter laughed.

"At least I'm not some 12 year old running around in skin-tight spandex pretending he's a spider." Quill's eyes lit with mirth.

"I'm 17! And I'm not the one who chose to call myself 'Star-Lord'." He shot back.

Quill's smile fell and he stared hard into the fire.

"I-I'm sorry." Peter stuttered, "I didn't mean to offend you-"

"Hey," Quill cut him off, the side of his lips quirking into a smile, "Don't worry about it." He sighed and looked up to the stars twinkling above. "My mom used to call me that. Before she," he swallowed, "before she died."

Peter's heart dropped as he silently rebuked himself. He stared at Quill's face, the fire dancing in his eyes. There was loss in those eyes. Pain and heartbreak. But there was also a great measure of happiness. Innocence. Joy and love. Peter wondered absently if his eyes looked the same.

"My parents died too." Peter looked down at the grass below him.

"I'm sorry kid."

"It's okay," he forced a smile, "it was a long time ago."

"Doesn't make it any easier."

"Yeah, I guess not." He shivered as a burst of chilly wind came through the trees. He folded his good arm over himself.

"You cold?"

"Yeah, just a bit." His teeth chattered.

"Could be from the blood loss." Quill came next to him. "I'm sorry I don't have any blankets."

"I-I-it's okay," the cold was beginning to penetrate his bones.

"Here," Quill removed his leather jacket, slinging it around Peter's trembling shoulders. He sat down directly next to the teen, wrapping his long arm around him and pulling him close, rubbing some warmth back into his limbs.

"T-thank you." He said, burrowing into Quill's side, desperate for the body heat.

"'Course, Petey. Now stop talking and get some sleep."

Peter happily obliged.


	4. Chapter 4

**WARNING: SPOILERS FOR INFINITY WAR**

"What in the hell do you mean you don't know?!" Tony paced through the palace halls, wringing his hands, frustration and exhaustion threatening to consume him. It had been 2 days since the war on Wakanda started. 2 hours since the baddies retreated. And almost 12 hours since Peter Parker went missing.

"When I opened the portal, I wasn't focused on a set location. I just... did it." Strange tried to explain, his voice heavy.

"Oh. Well great then. Leave it to the certified MD to screw the pooch, sending off a CHILD to the middle of nowhere with a half-human space pirate. Real bang up job, Strange. Well done."

"I saved their lives," Strange's words were clipped.

"He would've survived the fall! I specifically designed his suit for these kind of scenarios. Might've needed to buff out a few bumps and bruises but he would've been fine! And at least he wouldn't be stranded God knows where!" Tony was yelling. He couldn't help it. Ever since the Outriders and the Black Order abruptly zapped away from Wakanda, he'd been on edge. Then when he found out Parker was missing...

"The kid might've survived with his advancements, but Quill wouldn't have. A fall from that height for a normal human being... it could've broken his spine. I couldn't risk it, Tony."

Tony shook his head, gritting his teeth in fury. The other Avengers and Guardians stood by awkwardly, some nursing shallow wounds while the others listened in dense silence. "Then what are we supposed to do? Wait for them to try to figure out a way back? Huh? What if you dropped them in the middle of the damn Amazon? They could be injured. They could already be _dead_."

Strange shook his head, "I can only unconsciously send other people to places I've been before. Places where I've established memories." He sighed, "That should help narrow it down."

Captain Rogers stepped forward, ever the mediator, "Then we start there. Strange can compile a list of all the possible places he could've sent them. A few of us will search, while the rest of you stay here for when Thanos decides to regroup and return." He glanced between Stark and Strange, daring them to object.

"Fine." Tony bit out. "But we do it on my terms."

"Hey, you're not the only one who lost a teammate, tin-can," The Raccoon stepped forward, "You don't got the rights to call all the shots."

"Oh yes, of course. You got a better plan, Furbie?" Tony knew he was being short, but his worry was shooting through the roof and he couldn't stop his mind from racing through all the horrible possibilities. Peter was his responsibility. If something happened to him on Tony's watch...

Rocket stuck his thumbs underneath his vest, "Not a plan. Just some insight. Might ease your scrambled little humie mind," Tony scoffed as Rocket continued. "Quill's one resourceful son of a bitch. Heaven knows how often that doofus has gotten himself lost. He'll know what to do. How to keep 'em safe until they're found."

"You're sure?" Tony asked.

"Positive."

"Then it's settled," Rogers said, "Stark, Strange, Rocket and I will go searching, while the rest of you stay here and find a place to relocate Vision before the army returns. It might be a good thing to have the Stones separated anyway," he glanced at the amulet hanging around Strange's neck before turning to T'Challa. "Do you think you'll all be alright while we're gone?"

T'Challa looked up from the datapad he was sharing with Shuri, and glanced at the artillery of advanced Wakandan weaponry lining the palace halls. "I think we can manage," he smiled. His regal eyes became thoughtful, and his smile dropped as he lowered his voice. "Does Star-Lord know?" He asked, "About his woman?"

The room was silent.

Rocket turned away and the other Guardians hung their heads.

"No," the blue skinned woman, Nebula finally spoke up. "He doesn't know yet." Her dark eyes were cold. But there was an underlying sense of extreme sadness behind them. Tony absently found himself wondering just how close these "Guardians" were with one another.

His heart ached for the kid. No one deserved to lose the love of their life. Tony couldn't imagine an existence without Pepper. He would be completely and utterly lost without her.

Unadulterated horror washed over Tony when he found out that Thanos had set his sights on Earth. That horror multiplied when he discovered the lengths the Titan would take to win. He _murdered_ his own daughter. If he managed to collect all of the Stones... No. Tony wouldn't let that happen.

"Alright," Tony clapped his hands together, disbanding the negative energy that threatened to suffocate the room. "I'd really like to have Parker home before supper, so let's get this show on the road." He stepped behind T'Challa where a holoscreen was playing back footage from the battle. "Did anyone see anything, any hints at all that could help us find them? Or anything that might tell us what condition we might find them in?"

"I did," Thor's deep voice echoed through the halls. Stormbreaker hung loosely from his battle worn hand, "One of the Black Order, Cull Obsidian, struck the Spider Child to the ground."

Tony's heart dropped. "Did he get up?"

"No," Thor shook his head, "Not until Peter Quill snatched him away. It appeared he was trying to get the child to safety. Cull Obsidian apprehended them. I lost sight of them after that."

"They nearly made it here," Strange said, pointing to a patch of palm trees on the video feed. "when the big guy threw his weapon at them. They fell, and I opened the portal. That's all I know." He frowned, and Tony could tell he was silently berating himself.

Tony ran a hand down his face, pacing, "So that's it then? These are the only leads we have?"

The room fell once again into uncomfortable silence.

"I saw something." It was the bug lady, Mantis. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying.

"What did you see?" Tony's heart was beating a million miles a minute.

"The monster," her words were strained. "Cull Obsidian."

"What about him?"

"He followed them into the portal."


	5. Chapter 5

When Peter woke up, Quill was gone.

He shot up from his place against the tree, Quill's jacket sliding off from his shoulders. His bad shoulder immediately protested the unwelcome movement, and he bit down a gasp as his vision doubled.

"Quill?" He rasped. His voice was still heavy with sleep.

He scanned the tree line for movement. The leaves flashed vibrantly in the sunlight, and sweet songbirds sang in the branches. But Peter was alone.

 _No no no._

He carefully maneuvered himself onto his knees, and stood up. His palm smacked against the bark of the tree as dizziness threatened to send him back to the ground. His chest throbbed with the beating of his heart.

"Quill?" He spoke a bit louder, inching his way deeper into the forest. "Where'd you go, man?" He tried to keep his voice level, but the panic was creeping its way into his soul.

 _Oh my gosh he was probably eaten by a wolf or a bear or something and now I'm all alone out here in the middle of nowhere and I'm gonna die no no no no-_

"What are you doin' up, Petey?"

Peter whirled around, a muffled _"OH SHI-"_ escaping his throat.

Quill sauntered in through the trees, a smug look on his face and a lumpy bag of... something in his hand.

He laughed at Peter's expression, "Didn't mean to scare you. Had to go lookin' for some food before we starve to death." He set the bag on the ground, revealing a small assortment of berries. "'S all I could find. We might have to resort to hunting if we don't get out of this place soon." He sat down cross legged, patting the spot beside him. He furrowed his brows at Peter's pallid expression, "You doing okay?"

Peter carefully lowered himself to the ground, "Yeah. I just thought you were like, eaten by a bear or something and I'd be forced to find my way out here in the middle of nowhere," he gave a forced little chuckle before shoving a berry into his mouth.

"Aw man, I'm sorry kid. Thought you'd still be asleep by the time I got back." He handed Peter the water canteen, which he accepted eagerly. "I'll bring you with me next time, if you're feeling up to it."

"Yeah... that'd be nice," Peter grinned.

They ate in companionable silence for awhile, popping juicy berries into their mouths and letting their thoughts run free.

"So... how'd you become Mr. Spider?" Quill broke the reverie.

"...what?"

"You know. Mr. Spider. How'd you get all your sticky fingers and webby things? Are you like, half spider? Oh my God. Don't tell me your mom got it on with a spider."

"Ew! No! What the heck?" Peter stared at him incredulously.

Quill shrugged his shoulders, "I've seen crazier." He took a swig of water. "So you're a human then? What's your story?"

Peter sighed, scooting himself back a few inches to rest against a tree. "Long story short, I was bitten by a radioactive spider. It altered my DNA and made me super strong and gave me all these cool abilities and stuff. Except for the webs, I make those." He motioned to the web shooters at his wrist.

"Woah," Quill's mouth was wide open. He was silent for a bit as he stared hard at Peter. Until finally, "So... if you bite someone, do they become spider people too?"

A pause.

"Wait. Are you serious?" Peter asked, eyebrows almost reaching his hairline.

"1000 percent."

"...no." Peter shook his head. A small smile creeped onto his face, "Wait. Did you think that if I bit you, you'd get my powers?"

"Oh no. Not for me." Quill clarified. "For Rocket. Can you imagine a freaking Spider Raccoon?" He looked off into the trees as if picturing it. "That would be terrifying. Thanos wouldn't stand a chance in hell."

Peter tried to picture the little humanoid raccoon swinging through the trees, flipping around, teeth bared.

That _would_ be terrifying.

"You people are crazy." He said guilelessly, a smile plastered on his face.

Quill shrugged his shoulders again, "It's the only way we get anything done. Plus, we've singlehandedly saved the galaxy _twice._ What do you guys do? Defend your local grocers?"

"Sometimes." Peter mumbled.

"HAH!" Quill laughed.

"Hey! I once took out this massive guy!! I tripped him up with my webs, like they did in that one Star Wars movie." He retorted.

"The Empire Strikes Back?"

"Yeah! It's super old, but I get most of my cool tricks from old movies."

"Dude. That movie came out the year I was born."

"I rest my case."

Quill gaped at him, mischief sparking in his eyes. "Those are some strong words, coming from a virginal 12 year old."

"Hey! I've been with girls before!" Peter argued.

Quill raised his eyebrows.

Heat rose to Peter's face. "I've kissed... some girls before." He scratched his neck.

Quill laughed, patting Peter on the thigh. "It's okay. I didn't even get to third base til' I was a little older than you. Believe it or not." He unfolded his legs, resting his forearms on his knees. "Was a little weirded out about having sex with alien chicks."

Peter forced an uncomfortable laugh. "Wait, you're serious?" He asked when Quill didn't laugh with him. "You... did it... with aliens?"

"Well, yeah." Quill smirked, "There's a surprising lack of Terrans in outer space. You gotta do what you gotta do."

Peter sat silently for a moment, "When was the last time you saw a human, or Terran, I guess? Before you met us, I mean."

"The last time I saw a human? The day I was taken. So, decades." He fiddled with the flask of water in his hands.

"Must've been lonely," Peter said, quietly. He didn't know why, but he felt for Quill. He knew the feeling of loneliness. Being different. People not understanding.

"It wasn't bad," Quill said, "There are people - aliens that look just like us. Xandarians for example. I'm pretty sure they're the same as us. Just different insides, or something." He let out a little sigh. "Over time you realize that the people out there aren't too different from the people down here. Different cultures and languages and traditions. But for the most part, the things that are important for us are just as important for them."

"Like what?" Peter ventured.

"Family."

Peter nodded. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the gentle sounds of the forest. Peter pondered Quill's words in his mind. Despite having been kidnapped at such a young age, stripped of his home planet and thrown into a world that by all means shouldn't exist, Quill seemed to have made it out alright. Maybe he was scarred. Maybe a little broken. But so was Peter.

They had much more in common than Peter initially thought.

"You told us that you're only half human," Peter broke the silence. "So, is your father Xandarian?"

Quill's jaw clenched tightly. "No, not Xandarian." He stared hard into the ground, "Don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"Most of my expectations flew out the window when those aliens invaded New York a few years ago," Peter said, lips quirked upwards. But he could see the strain on Quill's face, and he was prepared to drop the subject.

Quill snorted, "Yeah. I guess a big ol' universe destroying raisin really does open up a world of possibilities, huh?" He shifted on the ground, swallowing hard.

"Listen, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to-"

"No, it's okay, really. I'm sure if Gamora were here she'd tell me about how "healthy" it is to open up and talk about this kind of stuff." He breathed out through his nose, "So my mom is from Earth. Missouri. 100% human. And my dad... well he was a planet."

Peter blinked. When Quill didn't elaborate, he blinked again. "Wait. A planet. You're telling me your dad was a planet?"

"Yep. Well, he was technically what they call a 'Celestial.' So, a god I guess. His brain floated around inside a planet, which was also him. It was all pretty confusing. He could manipulate energy and matter. Super powerful. He was a dick too. Tried to use me to destroy the universe. So I killed him."

"Oh my god." Peter was reeling.

"Yeah. That wasn't the best day." Quill's eyes were distant.

Peter didn't know how to process what he'd just heard, so he decided to just keep talking. "So, if he was a god... how did you... kill him?"

"My friends did most of the work. But I somehow inherited the Celestial gene from him. I used my powers to stall him. Then we blew him up." He picked at the grass on the ground. "Lost my powers when he died. Too bad, huh? Would've loved to kick some Titan ass with freaky planet energy." He sighed, getting to his feet, "But I'm just a normal human now. Still pretty badass, though." The wall was up again.

He smirked and offered a hand to Peter, helping him up. Peter grunted as the movement jostled his wounds. "But, that doesn't make any sense," Peter said, "You don't just... lose half of your DNA when a parent dies."

"Hey, man, I don't make the rules." Quill replied, steadying Peter when he swayed. "I just don't feel that light in me like I used to." He studied the canopy of trees above, "and maybe that's a good thing. I don't really wanna have a connection to that asshole anyway."

"Maybe it's still there. Just... dormant somehow." Peter thought out loud, eyes meeting Quill's.

"Maybe," Quill let the conversation drop, walking beneath a tree and reaching his hand up to a spindly branch.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked.

"I'm gonna climb up there. Triangulate a signal with my comms." He tapped the device behind his ear. "Maybe I can get a signal if I'm up a bit higher." He crouched down, gearing himself to jump for the branch, and leapt.

His hands skimmed the bark, and he landed hard on his feet, nearly stumbling to the ground. "Shit!" He exclaimed, his hand hovering over his side. He backed up against the tree, closing his eyes. "Not my best idea."

"Your side." Peter came beside Quill, who's grey shirt was grasped tightly in his palm. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," sweat beaded on Quill's forehead. "Just strained myself a bit. I'm fine."

"Maybe I can take a look at it." Peter said, "I'm not trained or anything, but I took a Medical Anatomy class-"

"It's fine, really." Quill forced a smile. "Just wonderful." He glanced back up at the trees.

"What about your rocket boots?" Peter asked.

"Busted in the lake." Quill frowned.

"Maybe I can do it." Peter offered.

"Oh no. No way." Quill eyed him harshly. "I'm not the one who nearly drowned and bled out. You'll just hurt yourself more. You get to sit this one out." He clapped Peter on the back.

Quill hunched down, getting ready to jump again.

"Wait." Peter pulled off one of the web slingers strapped to his wrist. "Use this."

Quill's eyes lit up like a 5 year old at Chucky Cheese's.

"Really?"

"Yeah! There's kind of a learning curve. But the idea is just to sling, and flick your wrist down just a bit to retract the web into the shooter. Like this," he shot a web up into the trees. "It'll pull you up itself, you just have to hang on."

Quill strapped the slinger to his wrist, grinning wildly. Peter couldn't help but match his smile. "You ready?"

"Hell yeah!" Quill said, slinging the web and following Peter's instructions. The web pulled Quill about halfway up into the tree, and he disattached the web from his wrist, climbing easily to the top.

A few minutes passed. "Any luck?" Peter called up to him.

"No," came the reply.

Peter leaned against the tree, tiredness and pain crawling into his nerves. He let out a sigh as he looked up at the trees surrounding them.

What he would give for some pizza right now.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

"Quill?"

No answer. Maybe Quill couldn't hear him.

"Quill?" He frowned.

Suddenly, the leaves rustled and the branches shook, and Quill dropped down onto the ground, masking his pained expression as it knocked the air out of him.

"Wha-" Quill clapped his hand tightly over Peter's mouth before he could say anything else. He slowly lowered both of them to the ground, Peter practically sitting on Quill's lap.

Quill put a finger over his mouth to silence him. His eyes were wide and frightened.

Peter thought his rib cage would burst, the pressure from his heart was unbearable.

He glanced around the tree, and his heart stopped.

Tusky was back.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter had never been so scared in his life.

He didn't know if it was the fact that a 15 foot man-killing monster was just a few yards away, or if it was the terrified look in Quill's eyes, or if it was the throbbing, constant pain that plagued him, or if it was the overly obvious fact that _they weren't in fighting condition._

He supposed it was a mix of all those things.

He stared into Quill's green eyes, whose hand was still clasped tightly over Peter's mouth. They were so close, he could feel Quill's breath on his face, see the sweat drip from his pores. He felt his own legs tremble underneath him.

Tusky's heavy footsteps echoed through the forest. Peter was reminded of that super old dinosaur movie, Jurassic Park. He wondered if the characters in that movie felt as trapped and horrified as he did right now.

The Peters locked eyes with each other, the older man slowly removing his hand from the younger man's mouth.

"He's going to find us," Quill whispered, almost imperceptibly, "we're gonna have to make a run for it."

Peter shook his head in denial.

"We have no choice. Okay? When I say go, you run as fast as you can. Don't look back."

Peter shifted on his place in Quill's lap, his heart pounding and hands shaking. But he nodded his head nonetheless.

"Run!"

They burst from the forest floor, making a beeline straight into the thick of the forest. Hopefully the heavy foliage would deter the beast, even if only by a little.

Peter pumped his legs as fast as he could, but his movement was impeded by the sling on his arm. He ripped it off, choking down a yell of pain as his shoulder was freed. His nerves exploded at the movement, but it helped him move more swiftly through the trees.

"Keep going!" Quill yelled from behind him. Peter suddenly realized he was at least 20 feet ahead of him, his abilities granting him higher agility and grace than a normal human. He slowed his pace by a fraction, his worry for Quill outweighing his need for escape.

"Don't slow down, kid!"

Peter glanced behind, and immediately regretted it.

Tusky was charging at them less than 40 feet away, deadly weapon raised and drawing closer. He crashed through the trees, splintered wood bouncing off of his massive body.

So much for getting help from the trees.

Peter could feel his energy waning rapidly, the pain and blood loss quickly catching up to him. His pace slowed, and he could hear the heavy footfalls coming closer. His vision grew dark, and he could feel himself losing his grip on conciousness.

He felt someone scoop him up under his armpits and drag him forward. Quill glanced down at him, taking on the teen's full weight as they bounded through the forest.

Peter's head began to bob forward, his vision going black, when he felt himself being flung to the side. He slammed to the ground with a agonized grunt, and tried blinking away the darkness. He could see leaves above him, covering his body, thin rays of sun trickling through the green. Sharp branches pricked him and broke off into his hair.

Quill had tossed him under a large bush.

His vision swam, and he felt like his lungs were about to burst. The pain sent him reeling, and he was sure that his collar bone cracked open even more. But his senses overwhelmed his body's need for rest, urging him to _get up, help Quill, fight._ Peter army crawled to the edge, desperately seeking out his friend.

Quill stood several feet ahead, glaring down the enemy, quad blasters raised.

 _What is he doing?_ Peter thought, heart gripped in fear.

Tusky slowed his run, coming to stand several yards away from Quill. He lowered his hammer slowly, cocking his head at the human before him, regarding him with wicked eyes.

The monster opened his mouth, spitting out a sentance in a rough alien language that Peter couldn't understand.

He watched as Quill narrowed his eyes, aiming his guns directly at Tusky's face.

Then Quill spoke, words in that same alien language. It sounded offputting coming from his voice. His tone was dark. Threatening.

The monster responded, voice menacing and deep.

Quill quirked his lips into a half smile, switching to English, "Cull Obsidian? What kind of stupid ass name is that? Is that the name your mom gave you? Did she take a good look at you and say. 'Wow, he looks just like a Cull Obsidian. What a perfect name for my sweet little boy.'" He snickered, "Looks like someone's trying waaaay too hard to seem nefarious."

The monster grit his teeth, eyes darkening as he took a step forward.

"You have no where to go, human. You are in no position to be threatening me."

"Yeah? And what makes you say that?" Quill glanced at Peter from the side.

"You and the child are injured. Unfit for battle. You are unfamiliar with your surroundings. I will overpower you."

"You sound pretty sure for a guy who's about to get his ass handed to him," Quill eyed Peter again, making a slight motion with his head.

He was telling Peter to run.

Peter shook his head in refusal, the motion bringing up bile into his throat. He choked it down and watched, panic racing down his spine.

Quill made an exasperated sound, stepping closer to Cull. "What do you even want from us anyway?" He asked, taking his time. Stalling.

"I wish to bring you to Thanos as a prize. He will likely use you as leverage against your pitiful friends, in exchange for the remaining Infinity Stones." He stared coldly down at Quill, who looked like a toddler in size comparison. "You will suffer less if you come with me willingly."

"And if I don't?" Quill goaded, purposefully leaving Peter out of the equation.

Cull turned his head towards Peter's hiding place. "I suppose I don't need you. The child should be enough." He began to move towards the bush.

"No! No." Quill placed himself in front of the monster, glancing back momentarily to make eye contact with Peter.

 _"Go now,"_ he mouthed, desperate.

But Peter didn't move. He couldn't move knowing that Quill would be left alone in harms way. That he'd be captured or tortured or killed. So he shook his head again, and slowly moved out from underneath the bush.

Quill shook his head in frustrated resignation, his blasters revving with energy.

Tusky stepped closer, narrowing his dark eyes at the human hybrid before him, "I have seen you before."

"I'm sure you have. Guardians of the Galaxy. We've thwarted quite a few of your master's evil plans before." Quill smirked. But the fear didn't leave his eyes.

"You are the one who swayed my sister, Gamora, to your side," he was angry.

Quill's eyes flashed and he glared, "Where is Gamora?" His tone dripped with venom.

"You have not heard?" Tusky grinned, displaying a mouth full of rotting teeth. "Thanos took her to Vormir in search of the Soul Stone. But the Stone requires payment. A Soul for a Soul."

Quill furrowed his brows, gritting his teeth. "What the hell's that supposed to mean."

"You know what it means," Cull spat, "Her body will rot in the snow."

Quill looked like he had been shot in the chest. He stumbled backwards, guns nearly falling from his hands.

Peter froze.

"No," Quill shook his head, his hands trembling. "He didn't."

"He did. She lays at the bottom of the mountain. A well deserved end for a traitorous wretch."

Quill shook his head harder, and Peter could see wetness rimming his eyes. His face twisted in anger.

"You're lying." His knuckles turned white as he gripped his blasters. "No he didn't. No he didn't!" He yelled at the top of his lungs.

The monster laughed, and Quill fired.


	7. Chapter 7

Peter hated feeling helpless.

There were many instances in Peter's life where he felt completely helpless. Like when he was bullied by Flash. Or when the debilitating pain overcame him after the spider bite, permanently altering his DNA. Or when Mr. Stark took away his suit. When he was almost crushed under that building. When his parents died. When he couldn't save Uncle Ben.

Or now, as Quill took on an enormous alien monster on his own, while simultaneously battling the grief of loss.

And Peter couldn't get his _damn_ body to move.

He watched as Quill yelled out in absolute rage, shooting round after round of energy into Cull Obsidian's face. The monster was physically unfazed, the blasts leaving only slight burns on his thick hide. He roared out in anger, bringing his hammer forward and swinging it down towards the man.

Quill deftly managed to dodge the attack, somersaulting out of the way. He darted behind the beast, sticking a small device on Cull's leg and activating it, sending jolts of electricity through the massive being.

But it wasn't enough. Cull yowled in pain, reaching down to his leg and pulling off the device. Quill's eyes widened as he crushed it in his hands. His dark eyes zoned in on the human, and he charged.

Quill shot at the monster again and again, to no avail. He tried ducking out of the way, but whether because of his own injuries or his emotional state, he wasn't fast enough. Cull grabbed him by the neck in one swift motion and hoisted him up into the air.

Peter watched in horror as Quill thrashed against Cull's grip, clawing desperately at the large hand that held him. He choked out quiet noises as his face grew dangerously red. Peter slammed his hand down on the spider at the center of his chest, willing the nanites to _hurry please Quill's dying._ Peter watched as the nanites formed around him, much too slowly. He scrambled out from beneath the bush as the mask covered his face, black dots flooding his vision and sending him back to the ground. He cursed at himself, at his weakness.

Cull Obsidian chuckled darkly at Quill's struggling form, "You should have chosen to come quietly." he said, tightening his grip around the man's neck. Quill's movements slowed down, his hands dropping to his sides. His face became lax as consciousness left him.

Peter's heart rate spiked again as Quill's eyes fluttered closed, a renewed sense of energy surging within him. He shot to his feet in one fluid movement, activating his iron spider legs, "Hey you big asshole! Let him go!"

Cull Obsidian snapped his head towards Peter, eyes narrowing. He took one more look at the unconscious human in his hand and tossed him to the ground in a heap. He brandished his giant hammer, and came bounding towards the teen.

 _Oh shit._

He yelped as the hammer was swung at him, leaping high into the air and landing behind the beast. He discharged several thick webs onto Cull's arms before the monster pivoted, sending his weapon crashing down to the ground where Peter was standing only seconds before. Peter climbed up the hammer and onto Cull's torso, using his iron legs for leverage. The sharp metal gouged deep holes into Cull's skin. Peter perched himself atop the monster's shoulders, retracting the legs and shooting webs into Cull's eyes, blinding him temporarily. The monster roared and reached a hand up to his face, which Peter quickly kicked away. He shot more webs around the monster's arms, torso, face and legs, while landing a few solid punches for good measure.

Cull Obsidian teetered before landing hard on his back. He didn't get up.

Peter paced slowly around the fallen figure, a nagging in his head to _just finish it._ But Peter had never killed anyone before. And he wasn't so sure he wanted to start now. He worried his lip and shot a few more webs around the monster, just in case, before he turned and sprinted towards Quill.

He retracted his mask and landed roughly on his knees beside the older man, whose eyes were still closed. Peter brought his fingers to Quill's neck, grimacing at the dark bruises already mottling his skin. He sighed in pure relief when he felt a steady heartbeat. He glanced down at Quill's chest, which was raising and falling with measured breaths.

"Hey man, you gotta wake up," he gently slapped at Quill's cheeks. No reaction. Peter glanced at the monsterous form behind him, "Quill, wake up. We don't have a lot of time." He shook the man's shoulders.

Quill let out a low moan, his eyes squinting open. "Aw man," he choked out, before a series of violent coughs racked his frame. Peter helped him sit up, awkwardly patting the half-human's back as his lungs tried figuring out how to work again.

"Are you okay?" Peter asked, even though he already knew the answer.

Quill's eyes met the ground, "Yeah. I'm fine." His words were distant.

"Are you-" Peter froze, his senses buzzing, the hairs on his neck standing straight up.

He knew what was coming before he even turned around.

"Run!"

He pulled Quill off the ground, who muttered a surprised, _"Shit!"_ before taking off after Peter.

Cull Obsidian bounded towards them, freed from his webby prison and angrier than ever.

They ran as fast as their legs could take them, dodging trees and rocks and brambles. Their legs ached and their lungs hurt but they kept going.

They burst from the trees, the distant sound of rushing water registering in Peter's mind. He spotted a dark hole cut into a rocky outcropping, and bolted.

"Hide in here!" He shouted, Cull's thundering footsteps growing closer.

They dropped into the hole, slamming into each other as they struck the ground. Peter bit back a yell as his collar bone exploded in pain. They huddled close to each other, the small space not allowing for much elbow room, and they waited.

The pounding footsteps paused, distilling dust from the dirt around them. They sat with bated breath, eyes scanning the opening above. They let out sighs of relief when the footsteps moved again, finally fading away completely.

The adrenaline quickly left Peter's body, leaving him exhausted and pained, "That was insane," he breathed out, gritting his teeth as he cradled his arm to his chest.

Quill nodded, still breathing heavily. He sat cross legged, dropping his face into his hands.

Peter didn't know what to say or do, so he just sat there, curled against the wall, willing the pain away.

Several minutes passed, and nothing could be heard but Peter's pained breaths and the _drip drop_ of water on the floors of the cave.

Quill finally raised his head, looking over to Peter, "How're you holding up?" He asked. Peter pretended he couldn't see the redness lining Quill's eyes.

He grimaced, "Hurts pretty bad." That was the understatement of the century. His entire body ached, the epicenter of pain throbbing in his arm and upper chest. He was sure the strain of fighting set back his recovery by at least a week.

"I'm so sorry, kid," Quill hung his head, his voice heavy.

Peter furrowed his brow, "Why are you sorry?"

"'S all my fault." He raised his head to look at the light streaming above. "This whole mess. Should've been more careful. Should've saved-" his voice broke, and suddenly Peter wondered if he was talking about their situation, or something else entirely. He let out a breath through his nose, looking down at his boots again, "He didn't do it."

"Quill?" Peter tried, his worry shooting up a notch.

"He's lying." He fisted his hands until his knuckles turned white. "He's lying. He has to be." He looked at Peter, eyes glistening. "She's fine," Peter saw the faintest of smiles grace his lips, "She's fine," He nodded to himself, as if trying to convince himself.

"Quill?"

But he ignored Peter, scooting forward and tapping the spider on Peter's chest. "Let's patch you up," He smiled, and this time it didn't seem as forced.

"Okay..." Peter pressed on the spider, holding it until the nanites retracted. He let out a groan as the cold, damp air of the cave peirced his skin through the thin spandex.

Quill worked quickly and quietly, performing the same careful ministrations that he did a few days before when they landed in this awful mess. Every once in awhile he'd ask Peter if he hurt, or if he felt dizzy, and he'd offer a small smile and reassuring words as he tended the wounds. Peter could feel his energy waning rapidly.

"You cold?" Quill asked, noting the slight tremors that ran through Peter's body.

"Yeah," his eyes drooped.

"C'mere," Quill situated himself next to Peter, wrapping his arm around him like he did before. Except this time, Peter wondered if it was just as much for Quill as it was for him.

Quill searched through his pocket, pulling out a little rectangular device. He stared at it, cradling it in his hand as if it were something sacred, before unraveling the cords that were wrapped around it.

"Is that... a Zune?" Peter asked, a laugh perched on his tongue.

"Yeah," Quill smiled, a slight trace of his normal self returning, "Best Terran music player there is. It can hold 300 songs. Can you believe that?"

"Yeah. That's," Peter grinned, stifling his laugh, "that's a lot."

"You have one of these?" The man asked.

"Uh, yeah. Something like that," Peter replied, before adding, "Not as cool as a Zune, though."

The smile didn't leave Quill's face as he popped one of the ear buds into his ear, "Do you wanna listen?" He held out the other bud to Peter.

"Yeah, sure," Peter adjusted the ear bud, and the quiet lyrics filtered into his head.

 _If you ever change your mind_

 _About leaving, leaving me behind_

 _Oh, oh, bring it to me_

 _Bring your sweet loving_

 _Bring it on home to me..._

Peter felt himself drifting away as the soft music lulled him to sleep.

And when he woke up the next morning, he didn't mention the tears he'd seen streaming down Quill's face as the music played.


	8. Chapter 8

Peter woke up with a tired sigh, stretching his aching legs and back. The faint sound of music registered in his groggy mind, and he reached up to pull the little black bud out of his ear. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, slowly taking in his surroundings.

Quill's arm was still draped over Peter's shoulders, his head tilted against the walls of the cave. He was asleep. Breathing slowly, peacefully. A track of dried tears paved a clean line through the dirt and grit on his face.

Peter frowned at the sight of the purpling bruises on Quill's neck.

Peter didn't want to disturb the sleeping man, knowing how desperately he needed the rest, but he _reallllly_ needed to relieve his bladder.

He slowly scooted away from the cave wall, setting down Quill's arm gently to his side. He tiptoed to the cave entry, and leapt into the daylight. He bit back a yelp as the movement aggravated his injuries.

His head spun as he straightened himself. Golden sunlight filtered in through the trees, and Peter could hear the sound of rushing water nearby. He walked quietly, hyper-aware of his surroundings in case Tusky decided to return.

He relieved himself and wandered through the trees, humming softly to himself.

He came to a clearing and found himself staring down a rocky cliff into a swirling river. It was at least a 50 foot drop, and the jagged rocks below spoke of a deadly end. Miles and miles away on the other side of the river were mountains, massive and dotted with emerald trees. The wind burst through the forest behind him, and he closed his eyes. It felt amazing against his filthy and battered skin.

It reminded him of the time that he and Uncle Ben went camping once, deep in the Appalachians. It was only a few months after his parents had died. He was young and scared and so uncertain. But Ben had treated him to several days away from the city, away from the noise and conflict. They hiked and fished and joked. And little Peter had finally found peace.

Despite the pain currently ebbing and flowing in his veins, despite his hunger and exhaustion and his underlying fear, he felt a small semblance of peace for the first time in several days.

"Wish you could see this, Uncle Ben," he whispered to the wind. He sat down on the white rock, mere feet from the drop off, and crossed his legs.

Several minutes passed, and he dozed, enjoying the breeze and the warm sunshine.

But his quiet meditation didn't last long. His sensitive ears picked up on a quiet noise behind him, nearly drowned out by the powerful gusts.

He shot up from the ground, heart thudding, muscles tensed. Had Cull Obsidian found him again?

"Peter!"

Quill. Peter ran towards the trees, worried something had happened to his friend, "Quill?" He shouted, picking up pace.

"Peter!" Again, more desperate.

"Quill! I'm over here!" He bolted, mind racing. He darted through the trees, trying to ignore the throbbing in his shoulder.

He turned a corner and yelped as he crashed roughly into the solid wall that was Peter Quill, landing hard on his rear.

Quill reeled back, hands automatically going up to shield his broken ribs, but he stayed on his feet. He breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of the bedraggled teen.

"Oh thank God." Quill rasped, his voice damaged from Cull's mistreatment , "Are you okay?" He reached down to help Peter up.

"Yeah, just went for a little walk," Peter winced as he was brought to his feet. He eyed Quill warily, "Are _you_ okay?"

"I thought something happened to you," Quill said, the fear in his voice fading a little. Peter was grateful when he wasn't reprimanded for wandering away.

"How's your arm feeling?" Quill asked, noticing the way Peter held his arm bent against his stomach.

"Like crap," Peter faked a chuckle.

"And your collarbone?"

"Worse," he grimaced. "Haven't been bleeding anymore though. So that's good I guess."

"Yeah," Quill's lips quirked. "That spider give you some extra healing juice or something? 'Cuz any normal human body would be having a much harder time than you are right now."

"A little I think," Peter answered. He wasn't sure what his advanced healing rate was. All he was sure about was that it definitely hadn't affected his threshold for pain. "Not sure I could take much more though."

Quill laughed, but Peter could tell it was forced. "I don't know about that. You're a tough kid. I can't believe you took on the big guy by yourself, all banged up like you are. It's a miracle you haven't gotten an infection." He knocked on the wood of the tree next to him. His eyes roved over the landscape, calculating. "It's only a matter of time before that ugly doofus is gonna come back for us."

"Maybe he gave up?" Peter said, his voice raising in question. He knew it was wishful thinking.

Quill shook his head, "We're too much of a prize." He leaned against a tree, taking in a ragged breath, "I'm pretty sure Thanos sent The Black Order to Terra as some sort of scouting party. Have them test the waters with those freaky Outriders, return and report to him so he can prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Peter almost didn't want to know the answer.

"The real war."

Peter swallowed thickly, "Do you think Thanos is gonna come to Earth himself?"

"He might not need to," Quill said darkly.

"What do you mean?"

"If Thanos has enough leverage against our friends, he won't have to step foot on Terra at all." Quill ran a hand down his face.

Horror washed over Peter, "You mean..."

"Cull Obsidian wants to bring us to Thanos directly, just like he said. He'll have The Black Order ask us questions, rough us up a bit. Maybe worse," Quill pushed himself away from the tree and began to pace, "They'll call up our friends and offer incentive. The lives of both an Avenger and a Guardian in exchange for the Stones."

Peter's horror multiplied. The thought that the Avengers would deem his life more valuable above that of the Universe... no, they wouldn't. They couldn't.

"They wouldn't trade half the Universe for us." Peter breathed.

Quill's jaw tightened, "You'd be surprised what people will do for those they care about."

"Then we'll just tell them!" Peter was frantic, the need to protect others surging in his soul, overwhelming his need to survive, "If we get caught we'll just tell them not to give up the Stones! We're not worth it!"

"Try telling that to Stark," Quill's words were sharp. He rolled his eyes at Peter's confused stare. "C'mon Petey! Stark really cares about you! Anyone with two eyes can see that. He doesn't want anything to happen to you. You're just a kid. He feels responsible for you. For your safety," His voice softened, "Just like I do."

Peter was taken aback by Quill's admission, "You feel responsible for me?" He ventured.

Quill looked at him sheepishly, "'Course I do. We're here in the middle of nowhere, and I'm kinda the adult in the situation. I've never really been the best at being the adult in any situation. But here we are," he motioned to the trees and sighed.

"I can take care of myself," Peter mumbled.

"I know you can, Petey." He clapped his hand on Peter's good shoulder, "You've made it this far. Kept us from getting caught by Cull. I'd be dead if it wasn't for you," he rubbed absently at his bruised neck.

Peter smiled at the praise, glad that Quill trusted him. That although Peter was a couple decades younger, Quill saw him as his equal. It was refreshing.

"...do you really think they'd trade the Stones for us?" Worry and uncertainty tainted the question.

"I don't know," Quill replied, leaning back against the tree. "They shouldn't. Because you're right. We aren't worth half the Universe." He scratched his forehead with a thumb, "But it's easy for us to say because we won't be the ones forced to make that decision."

Peter stared hard at the ground, his eyebrows knitted together hard in thought.

Quill could sense his unease, and he reached over, ruffling Peter's hair. "Hey. This is only if we get caught. Which we won't, cuz we're badasses." He smirked, "We'll be ready for him when he comes back. Okay? Then we'll find a way out of this place somehow, get back to Wakanda, and whoop some purple ass."

"Yeah, but what are we supposed do if Cull comes back for us?" Peter asked. "I have a messed up arm, broken bones. I actually think my collar bone is getting worse." He paused, taking in Quill's pale face and shallow breathing, "And I can tell that your ribs are making it hard for you to breathe. Not to mention the fact you almost had your windpipe crushed."

Quill winced. "That obvious, huh?" He picked at the hem of his shirt, "I'm sure we'll figure it out. We gotta be careful though. We won't be able to take him by ourselves in hand-to-hand combat. The guy's got brawn but not a lotta brains. We can use that to our advantage."

"Maybe we can set a trap?" Peter added.

"Now you're talking," Quill grinned. "Got any ideas?"

Peter thought back to the cliff he found earlier. The raging waters. The deadly rocks below. He smiled.

"Yeah," he nodded, "I have an idea."


	9. Chapter 9

It took them all of 3 hours to prepare.

Quill changed out Peter's bandages and applied the last little bit of antibiotic cream to the open wounds.

The last of their medical supplies.

Then they set off to prepare their trap.

Peter led them to the steep cliff he found earlier, pointing out the sharp rocks and deadly waters. A dangerous glint shone in Quill's eyes as the teen explained his plan.

Quill rummaged through his coat pocket, pulling out 3 round metallic pods. "Been saving these. For a special occasion," he explained. He walked over to the edge of the cliff where the white rock jutted out, and slapped them onto the surface. They seemed to magnetize and cling to the rock.

"What are those for?" Peter asked.

"Insurance," Quill replied, "Not to say that your plan isn't good. These'll just make sure it goes the way it needs to go. Just in case."

"What do they do?"

The Guardian pulled out a small device. "I push this button, that rock is gonzo. And Elephant Man along with it." He peered into the churning water below, "I don't think even he could survive that river."

"Sweet," Peter grinned.

Quill kicked at the dirt under his boots. "So it's settled then."

Peter nodded, "Yep. I lead him here. You stand at the ledge and like, super piss him off. He charges, you dodge out of the way, he falls to his death. Easy." He was buzzing with nervous energy.

"Yeah... about that." Quill frowned. "I don't know if I'm really a fan of the part where _you_ lead him from the forest. You're still hurt. If he catches you-"

"He won't," Peter cut him off, "I'm faster than most humans even on a bad day. Plus, I feel a lot better than I did a few days ago." That was definitely a lie, but he bounced on his heels and put on a vibrant smile for show. He was determined to make this work.

Quill pursed his lips, unsatisfied with the answer, but he nodded anyway. He glanced once more to the watery ravine before turning on his heel back into the forest.

Both Peters decided that they couldn't continue living off of berries, so they found a small rabbit and brought it to its end in the most humane way possible. Peter couldn't help but feel awful for the little creature, but his rumbling stomach and lightheadedness thanked him greatly for the protein.

He needed all the strength he could get.

They let the smoke from the fire rise high into the afternoon sky. The smoke would inevitably lead Cull Obsidian directly to them. But they wanted that.

"Better for us to have the upper hand than have him take us by surprise," Quill mumbled, stoking the flames.

And they waited.

Quill sat with what looked like the hilt of a sword in his hand, tracing its smooth silver lines with careful fingers. His shoulders were tense, face drawn in hard lines.

Peter could tell that Cull Obsidian wasn't the only thing on his mind.

"What's that?" Peter asked, hoping to pull the man from his reverie.

Quill looked up from his lap, clenching the hilt tightly. "This is Godslayer," a small smile played on his lips, "It was Gamora's." He sucked in a breath, "Is." He corrected himself. He held it out at arms length, and a dangerous looking blade shot out from the hilt. "She's so sexy when she uses this thing."

Peter giggled, but let Quill continue in his thoughts.

"She left it when Thanos took her," it was almost a whisper.

"I bet she'll be really happy to have it back," Peter offered. His heart ached at the hopeful look that flashed across Quill's face.

"Yeah," he said, "She will." The blade retracted back into the hilt, and he returned it to the belt at his hip. He let out a sigh, resting his head against his knees.

Peter didn't like seeing the normally very happy and upbeat man so downtrodden. It felt... wrong.

He scooted a little closer to the man, prodding his leg with a finger. "Tell me about them," he tried, and Quill looked up. "Tell me about your friends. The Guardians, I mean."

Quill shifted, unfolding his legs and stretching them out, "Oh man." He grinned, "Where do I even start?"

Peter listened as Quill regaled the tale of his friends. He learned about Mantis. The bug lady who almost laid eggs in his chest. She was an empath and sorta like Quill's half sister, raised by his evil Celestial dad. He learned about Drax. The funny tattooed guy who took everything literally. He lost his family to Thanos and was one of the most loyal friends in the world. He learned about Groot. The selfless little tree teen who had a knack for video games and backtalking, but also for incredible selflessness. He learned about Rocket, the feisty raccoon who suffered greatly for most of his life and struggled to open up to others, but was Quill's best friend all the same. And last he learned about Gamora. How strong and perfect and beautiful she was in Quill's eyes. How he would do anything and everything for her. How he wanted to maybe one day start a life and a family with her. How he loved her more than anything.

And then, being the great conversationalist that he was, Quill asked Peter about the people in his life.

So Peter smiled and told him everything. Told him about Ned and how he was the most fun and quirky best friend in the world. How he loved to build Lego's and geek out about movies. He told him about MJ. Her simple beauty and quiet sarcasm that made Peter's heart flutter. How he wanted desperately for their relationship to continue to grow. He told him about Aunt May. How wonderfully she had cared for him. Her lovely smile and delicious baking. Their grocery runs and restaurant dates. He told him about Mr. Stark. The "Stark Internship" ploy and the suit he'd received. How much he looked up to the man. How much he wanted to be just like him. He began to speak of his Uncle Ben, but his voice caught in his throat and he fell silent.

Quill nodded in quiet understanding. "Your Uncle Ben sounds like an amazing person."

"He was," Peter stared at the ground and picked at the dead leaves. Under normal circumstances he would never speak of Uncle Ben, even with Aunt May. But these weren't normal circumstances and Peter Quill wasn't his normal audience.

"Sometimes..." he breathed deeply, "Sometimes I feel like it's all my fault he's gone."

Rather than telling him ' _of course it isn't your fault,_ ' or ' _there's nothing you could've done,'_ Quill gave him a single nod. "I know what you mean." When Peter didn't respond, he continued, "The man who raised me out in space, Yondu, he died trying to save me. I still blame myself to this day."

Peter's heart ached that another person also felt the guilt he did. But at the same time, he felt a sense of solidarity in his heart. He and Peter Quill were so similar. Apart from their shared names, they were both bullied as children. Both were ripped from having a normal family. Both tragically lost their father figures and they both suffered from the consequential guilt.

For the first time in a long time, Peter felt a little less alone.

"I'm sorry," Peter said finally, giving Quill a sad smile. The man returned the smile, and pulled Peter into a half hug.

"You're a good kid, Petey." He said, his chin resting atop Peter's head. He pulled away after a few moments, his hand still resting on Peter's shoulder, "Thank you," he said, "For listening."

"Of course," Peter replied, "And thank you. I'd probably be long gone if you didn't swoop in a save me all those days ago."

Quill chuckled, "Yeah. Glad I was there to help," he stood up. "Who knew someone with such poor taste in movies could be so cool."

Peter laughed, also moving to stand, "Dude, like _every_ movie is better than Footloose."

"Yeah right! Have you even-"

Peter froze in his spot. He could hear it, ever so slightly. The thundering of heavy footfalls coming their way.

Quill must've noticed it too, because he already had his hands on his quad blasters, body tensed and ready to move. "You ready?" He asked, voice serious.

Peter gulped and nodded, "Get to the cliff. I'll meet you there with Tusky in tow." He shot a web into the tree above him and jumped onto a branch. "See you soon."

Quill gave a sloppy salute and took off into the trees.

Peter couldn't quiet the beating of his heart in his ears. This was the only chance they had. If it didn't work...

He didn't want to think about it.

The ground rumbled beneath him, and Cull Obsidian burst through the trees. But this time something was different. He was still very big, very ugly, and very angry. But his hammer... it seemed to have morphed. Its usual blunt edge was replaced with a scythe-like curve, which ended with a deadly looking point.

Peter didn't want to get anywhere near that thing.

He tensed his legs, prepared to jump, and he yelled.

"Hey you big ugly freak! Over here!" He called, and he leapt to the next tree, giving him several yards of distance from the monster.

Cull snarled, and charged.

Peter yelped, remembering just how frightening it was to be chased by an enormous rage monster. He dropped to the ground, sprinting as fast as he could. But Cull was catching up.

Peter really hoped Quill would be able to move out of the way in time.

He bolted through the trees, branches whipping harsh red lines into his face, but he didn't slow. The seconds passed quickly and finally the clearing was within his sight. His body was begging him to stop, but he shook off the pain and kept going.

He was almost there! He could finally see the outline of Quill's form on the ledge. He could see his hands hovering with blasters charged and ready. He could see his tense posture, his terrified face - wait. Why did Quill look so scared?

 _"Oof!"_ Peter's breath was knocked out of him as something large wrapped around his torso, dragging him backwards. He only caught a glimpse of metal and then the ground rushed up towards him. He fell with a cry, his shoulder erupting in pain.

He looked up blearily from the ground, finding himself face to face with a nightmare.

Cull Obsidian loomed over him, his hammer-scythe _retracting_ slowly back into its handle from a thick chain. So that's what grabbed him and pulled him back.

Great.

"Uh, hi." He said, and flipped into the air before the beast could make his deadly strike. He stumbled as he tried to reorient himself, and he took off. His heart was in his throat as Cull apprehended him, even more charged now that his victim had escaped.

"Hurry!" Quill shouted, only twenty, fifteen, ten yards ahead.

Peter picked up his pace, but it wasn't enough. Cull threw his hammer again, and the sharp end slashed deep into the back of Peter's thigh. He cried out, nearly falling, but the adrenaline and Quill's worried pleas kept him going. He jumped into a tree that sat at the edge of the clearing and watched as Quill played his part in the plan.

Cull wasn't deterred, set on claiming his prize. He stopped below Peter's branch, the thirst for blood flashing in his dark eyes. He raised his hammer again, ready to end the injured teen, only to reel back in pain as a blast slammed into his side.

"Hey you big bastard! Get away from him!" Quill spat, his blasters thrumming with energy.

Cull roared in fury, and he charged.

Everything happened so quickly.

Peter watched, shaking from pain and adrenaline, as Cull approached Quill. He watched as Quill tensed, bending his legs to jump. He watched as Cull, much smarter than they thought, skidded to a stop mere inches before he could fall off the cliff. He watched as Quill tried to roll away, the surprise registering much to slow as their plan fell to shambles. He watched as Cull grabbed Quill by the arm and turned slowly to face Peter, holding the point of his weapon against the man's throat.

The beast smiled wickedly at Peter as if to say _I won._

Quill pulled something small out of his sleeve and looked straight at Peter, a mix of sadness and finality written on his face. Peter watched in horror as Quill closed his eyes and tapped on the device.

The little pods on the white cliff detonated, and the rock fell away into the rushing river.

Taking Cull Obsidian and Peter Quill with it.


	10. Chapter 10

"NO!"

Peter jumped down from the tree, dashing to the broken ledge where Quill had fallen.

"No no no please no not him," he rambled, heart beating a million miles a minute. He took one second to peer down into the abyss, and he made his decision.

It wasn't a hard one to make.

He shot a web at a secure point on the rocky outcropping, and jumped.

The waters rushed up to meet him, and he swung to push off the wall of the cliff, his web serving as an anchor to keep him from falling to his death. He rappelled quickly to the bottom, scanning the waters below for any sign of Quill.

He looked to his left, further up the river, and immediately averted his gaze.

Cull Obsidian lay sprawled against the jagged rocks, very obviously dead.

But there was still no sign of Quill.

"Please please let me find him," he begged to any and every divine being that would listen. Tears pricked at his eyes and his body trembled from the stress and pain.

"Please..."

And then he saw it.

Nearly invisible to the naked eye, a blur of red skimming underneath the surface of the water further down, seemingly pinned against a large boulder.

"QUILL!" He yelled, and he pushed off from the rock, releasing the web. He held his body straight as a rod and plunged into the raging waters.

A wave of pain came rushing over him as the currents pushed and pulled and dragged him under. He scrambled for purchase, but to no avail. He bobbed up and down, sputtering for air only to be snatched back into the water's deadly clutches. His mangled leg and injured shoulder screamed in protest as he kicked against the current.

 _This is it,_ he thought. _I'm going to die._

Suddenly he felt something firm beneath his foot, and he kicked _hard,_ finally finding purchase, and burst into the open air. He gasped and blinked the water from his eyes.

Quill was just a few feet ahead and Peter was getting closer by the second. He gulped in a lungful of air and dove.

He could see Quill, pinned underneath the water flush against the rock, the harsh current beating his body against it, but keeping him in place.

He wasn't moving.

 _Oh God._

He reached out his arms, and the river brought him crashing right into Quill's motionless form. He grabbed onto the man, pulling him into his arms and out of the water. The current kept them both pressed tight against the boulder, and Peter struggled desperately to keep them from being swept away.

He grabbed Quill's face in his free hand, the other keeping him from falling back under the surface. Quill's eyes were closed, his face slack. He had a large gash on his forehead that bled freely.

He was so pale.

"No no no," he dropped his hand to Quill's neck, feeling for a pulse, leaving his head to bob against his shoulder.

Peter felt the slightest heartbeat flutter against his fingers. He choked out a laugh in relief. Quill was still alive!

He stuck his hand underneath the unconscious man's nose, trying to feel for anything, any breath at all.

Nothing.

"Shit," Peter's relief sank back into the depths of his soul. There was no way he could revive Quill in the middle of a raging river.

He looked at Quill. At the man who had saved his life countless times in the past several days. The man who always managed to always put a smile on his face. The man who had helped him see he wasn't so alone in the world.

Peter never had a brother. But he was suddenly filled with the overwhelming feeling that he had somehow found one in the man before him.

It was then that Peter realized just how devastating losing Peter Quill would be to him.

He wrapped his arms tightly around Quill's torso, pulling him close against his chest. He winced as he felt the man's ribs shift and grind together.

"I got you, man. I'm gonna get you out of here," his words were lost in the thunderous echoes of the ravine.

He pressed the soles of his feet against the boulder, holding onto Quill for dear life, and pushed.

The river caught them once again, the freezing liquid surging and crashing and so very deadly. Peter tried dodging the rocks and debris along the way, twisting his body to take the brunt of the impact so as to shield Quill. He could feel the bruises accumulating on his already battered body, his energy waning, his vision growing dim. But he couldn't give up.

He treaded and kicked until finally, whether by divine intervention or just pure luck, he managed to get them to the river bank.

He crawled to the sandy shore and stumbled to his feet, dragging Quill as far away from the water as possible. When the threat was well and far away, Peter dropped to his knees beside the man, ripping his red jacket open.

Peter sucked in a sharp breath. The gray shirt dipped in a horrific, uneven pattern over Quill's chest, several of his ribs shattered.

Peter acted immediately.

He tilted Quill's head back and breathed for him. _I know you'll give me hell for this when you wake up,_ he thought, _but you've already done it to me once so whatever I guess._ His mind raced with pretended conversation as he tried to get Quill's lungs to work again. He imagined that Quill would wake up and balk and tease him for "kissing" him. He'd laugh it off and ruffle Peter's hair. Then he'd stand up magically healed and they'd go hunting for squirrels or something dumb. And Quill would show him how to use his blasters and they'd figure a way out of the hell they were stuck in and Peter would finally show him his Lego collection.

"C'mon!" Peter shouted in between breaths. "C'mon Quill!"

He continued providing ventilations for what felt like eternity, until finally, Quill jerked and coughed up what looked like gallons of river water.

"Yes!" Peter cried, "oh thank God! Thank you! Thank you!" He cheered to the sky as Quill expelled the fluid from his body. Peter turned him to his side, patting his back gently, careful to avoid pressing on his ribs.

After several minutes the coughs subsided, and Quill rolled onto his back again. Peter could see a hint of green irises as his eyes blinked open, a mask of confusion and pain written on his face. He turned to Peter, who smiled like a fool down at him.

"Pete...?" He wheezed, his voice rough and heavy.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here," Peter took Quill's hand in his, "Just hold on, okay? I'm gonna figure out a way out of this mess." Peter knew he had to figure it out and do it quickly. There was no telling how extensive the damage to Quill's body was.

"Thanks..." Quill breathed, and he was out.

Peter sat back in relief, his hands still clasped tightly around Quill's. The adrenaline began to fade rapidly, and pain replaced awareness as his world began to dim. He slowly lowered himself on his back beside Quill, and brought a trembling hand to the back of his thigh. His fingers came away with thick red blood that he knew wasn't anywhere near slowing.

It was then that he realized that if he didn't find help soon, he would be in the same boat as Quill.

He glanced over at his friend. Quill's eyes were shut, lashes dark against his pale skin. But his chest was rising and falling with life, and that was enough for Peter as he found himself drifting in and out of consciousness.

An inner voice was telling him _get up now or both of you are going to die_ but he simply couldn't get his body to move. His brain was yelling at him, begging him to just do something, anything. But he couldn't. The heavy bloodloss and sheer exhaustion was pulling him up and down again and again. Just like the river did.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. It could've been hours, weeks, even years. His perception of time was so slanted that he figured it didn't even matter. He could be already dead for all he knew.

He found himself pulled from unconsciousness only to be met by the smiling face of Natasha Romanoff.

Wait. When did she get there? Peter's vision was blurry, mind muddled as he saw Mr. Stark peer at him from behind her. The billionaire's gaze was hard. Unconcerned. Peter whimpered, pain spiking through his frame. Natasha ran a slender finger down Peter's cheek, shushing him.

Only it wasn't Natasha. No, not even close.

"Don't worry child," the woman's voice was cold, "We'll save you."

Proxima Midnight smiled as she struck Peter hard on the head, sending him into darkness.


	11. Chapter 11

Tony was about to lose it.

They had searched for almost 4 days now. From New York to Philadelphia, Hong Kong to London. Now even Nepal. Stephen Strange had been _everywhere_. Much like Tony, his wealth and prestige allowed him to travel. A lot.

Unfortunately for them, that meant they had a _lot_ of ground to cover if they wanted to find the missing Peters.

So they searched, occasionally checking in with the others to ensure that no threat had returned. Luckily there was no sign of Thanos' army. They had relocated Vision to a secret bunker underneath Wakanda, nearly impenetrable and impossible to detect. Shuri and Banner had yet to figure out how to remove the Mind Stone from his head.

The Time Stone still hung around Strange's neck.

Tony would not, could not rest as they jumped from portal to portal. He refused to give up hope, but he was a realist. He knew that oftentimes in the case of missing persons, the longer they were gone, the likelihood of finding them grew less and less.

And Parker was injured, his tracking system and comms somehow rendered useless. Tony had tried again and again to recalibrate a signal with the kid. Nothing. Same with Quill.

So when FRIDAY alerted him to an unauthorized thermal signature over Glacier National Park, he couldn't help his heart from leaping with anticipation.

"You ever been to Montana, Wizard?" He asked as they tracked through a winding path on the outskirts of Nepal.

Strange paused, a quizzical look on his face, "...yes. As a kid. Why?"

Tony's spirits lifted a fraction. "Apparently there's an unauthorized presence that just appeared over Glacier National Park." He worked his jaw as FRIDAY relayed more... unsettling information, "and it's not of Earth."

"That could be them! Maybe Quill figured out how to send out a signal." Rocket stepped forward, excitement plastered his face for the first time in days.

"Or it could be another alien attack," Rogers frowned, "Regardless, it's something we need to check out."

They warped into the middle of the forest, as close to the signature as they could get. By the time they got there, whatever had caused the readings had disappeared.

"Search for any signs of Quill and Parker. But be careful. There could be hostiles. Report back if you find anything," Rogers said, his vibranium arm shields extended. He and Strange headed to the left while Tony and Rocket took the right.

They searched in awkward silence, having not spoken much in the past few days. Strange and Rogers were the most removed from the situation, and they had no problem making small talk and trying to brighten the otherwise solemn mood. But Tony and Rocket had both lost people they were close to. Friends. Family.

So Tony was throughly surprised when the Racoon spoke up, "So who's Parker to you? He your kid?"

Tony was taken aback, "What? No." He laughed dryly, "no no. Though the headaches he causes sometimes make me think otherwise." He ran a hand down his face. "He's my... protegé. Intern. Hell I don't know. I just don't wanna see him dead. He's got a hot aunt who'd be pissed if I didn't get him home to her." Tony knew Rocket could tell he was lying through his teeth. Everyone knew that Tony's affection for Peter ran deeper than that. Their father/son dynamic was so hugely obvious it was a shock no one else had asked him the same question.

"Mm." Rocket mumbled, "yeah, Quill tends to give all 'a us headaches too. Dumb humie. Always manages to land himself in trouble. And we're always the ones who have to drag his sorry ass out of it."

Tony frowned, "But you're sure he knows what he's doing?"

"Oh yeah," Rocket waved an arm, "Star-Munch is a master of improvisation. He always manages to keep himself alive long enough for us to arrive." He rubbed his paw along the length of his gun. "The only times he really seems to screw things up is when his emotions get the better of him."

Tony nodded. He could relate.

Rocket's face grew somber and he picked at his fur. "He's gonna have a real hard time when he finds out about Gamora."

Tony's frown deepened, "How long have they been together?" He asked.

"Geez. Long time. Almost four years, I think?" He squinted his eyes, "Least that's how long they've been doin' it, walls of his d'ast ship are so damn thin you can hear everything."

"O-kay," Tony tried to wipe the image from his mind, changing the subject, "Then it might be smart of us to keep that little bit of info from him 'til we're all home free."

Rocket nodded, and the two mechanics fell back into silence.

A few minutes passed, when Rocket suddenly paused. His ears flicked forward as he listened.

"What is it?" Tony asked, nervousness tainting his tone.

"There's water nearby. A river. If they were here, maybe they tried following the river to find their way out." Rocket set off towards the sound, Tony following eagerly behind. They weaved through the trees, scouring high and low for any sign of human life.

Tony wasn't ready for what he found.

Several trees were in pieces, completely obliterated. As if a bulldozer had come blazing through the forest. They quickly followed the trail of splinters to a clearing, where a steep drop off led into a raging river. The edge of the white rock looked sharp. Jagged. As if it had fallen away recently.

Rocket swore as he picked up something small and metallic from the ground, "Shit." He muttered.

"What's that?" Tony took what looked like metal shelling from Rocket's paw.

"It's Quill's. A mini bomb. My own design," he grit his teeth, "They were here." Tony's heart leapt. They peered down the ravine, eyes widening, "And it looks like that bastard found them after all." Rocket growled.

Cull Obsidian's corpse lay at the bottom of the cliff, sprawled atop the rock.

A surge of emotion flooded through Tony. Relief that Cull was dead. Relief at having finally found out were they had been all this time. But also an equal measure of fear at not knowing their fate.

"Should the fact that Quill used these bombs be considered a bad thing?" He ventured, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

"He mostly uses them in emergencies." Rocket explained. "They pack a real punch."

"Dammit," Tony mumbled under his breath. He pressed the communicator in his ear, "Rogers. We found something. Parker and Quill were here. Sending you coordinates now. Get here quick."

Mere seconds passed before Strange and Rogers stepped through an orange portal. They grimaced at the sight of Cull's body.

"There's no other sign of them apart from this," Tony showed them the bomb shelling.

"We found something too." Strange said, tattered red fabric bundled in his hand. He passed it to Tony, who recoiled when he felt that it was covered in dried blood.

"FRIDAY, who's blood is this?" Tony asked, dreading the answer.

 _"DNA match. The blood belongs to Peter Benjamin Parker, age 17. It has been approximately 3 days 17 hours and 49 minutes since the blood has oxygenized."_

Ice filled Tony's veins.

Rogers laid a hand on his shoulder. "He might still be alive, Tony." His voice was soft.

Tony ripped his shoulder away, seething, "And what if he isn't, Rogers? What then?" He ran a hand through his hair, "I was responsible for him. _Me._ And I dropped my guard and now he's _gone._ You can relate, can't you Rogers?" He bit, and Steve stared hard at the ground.

Stark-" Strange began.

"Don't!" He snapped, and whipped towards Rocket, pointing his finger, "and I don't _care_ that he's with Quill, your so-called " _leader_." That man is hardly an adult." His voice was raising with each word. "Parker's out here, hurt, possibly dead and it's all my fault," his voice cracked. "No matter what I do it's all my fault."

Tony turned away from the group, fists clenched and jaw taut. Extreme guilt dredging up past horrors. Ultron. Sokovia. The entire debacle with Barnes and Steve...

The kid deserved better than this.

Tony nearly jumped out of his skin when FRIDAY'S voice spoke up. " _My apologies for the interruption, Mr. Stark. But my scanners indicate traces of Mr. Parker's DNA pattern approximately 2,640 feet downstream."_

"Oh God," he whispered, and bolted down the river.

He heard the others yelling after him, begging him to slow down, but all he could think was _"Please be okay please please please."_

The scanners led him to the water bank on the other side of the river down below. He activated his thrusters and flew to the other side, heart hammering.

Strange opened up a portal for the others and they met Tony at the bottom, breathless and confused.

"Tony, what-" Steve paused when he saw what Tony was staring at.

A large pool of dried blood on the silty ground.

"Is that..." Rocket whispered.

"It's Parker's," Tony swallowed, his vision whitening. "And it's fresh." His tongue felt dry.

"Shit." He heard Rocket say, as the animal reached down to pick up something a few feet away, cradling it carefully in his paws.

"What is it?" Strange asked.

"Quill's Zune. He never leaves anywhere without it."

"These impressions..." Steve traced the dips in the sand. "It looks like they were laying here for quite some time."

"There's more blood here," Strange said, motioning to a smaller patch of red.

Tony let FRIDAY do it's job. "It's Quill's," he sighed, growing more and more fretful with each new discovery.

"That alien signature... you don't think..." Steve trailed off.

 _"-ark. Come in."_ They all paused as a voice filtered through their ear pieces. " _Stark? Rogers?"_ It was T'Challa.

"Yes? King T'Challa? What is it?" Steve asked. Tony held his breath.

 _"You might want to get back here. We are receiving a signal from the Black Order. They want to speak with us."_

"What did they say?" Tony couldn't keep the terror from his voice.

A pause.

 _"They have Spider-Man and Star-Lord."_


	12. Chapter 12

Peter wasn't fully conscious. Not really.

He was trapped in a never ending swirl of dull, throbbing pain. The ebbs and flows coursing steadily through his veins.

Constant. Endless.

He was so cold. _From the bloodloss._ Quill's voice echoed in his head. _It's okay, Petey. We'll get you fixed up in no time._ A cheeky smile. A pat on the shoulder.

Only it couldn't be Quill. Quill was laying on the river bank next to him. Ribs shattered. Lungs bruised. Dying. Maybe he was already dead.

Maybe Peter would be meeting him soon.

Or maybe Peter was dreaming. Though, he didn't remember ever feeling this much pain in his dreams before.

Was he conscious or not? He wished his body would just choose already.

Where was he? Was he even alive? Was he in hell? This felt like hell.

Every once in awhile he'd catch flashes of white. Whispers and mumblings. Cries of pain. They weren't his cries.

He drifted in and out, and vaguely wondered if he had actually drowned in the river, and everything that happened afterward was just a fantasy.

But then the throbbing pain brought him back, reminding him that no, this definitely wasn't fantasy.

He wished it was.

As the time passed his senses slowly came back to him in waves.

First it was his hearing. The sounds were muffled, distant. As if he was underwater.

 _"...he wants them both alive."_ A male voice. Regal. In charge. Somehow familiar.

 _"...will not survive the night...already fading."_ A woman.

 _"...let them die..."_ Another male. Different this time. And angry.

"... _no you_ _fools...to the healers immediately."_ The first man again.

He was lifted up into uncaring arms. He dropped back into darkness. But it didn't last long.

His sense of smell came to him next.

Harsh chemicals. Metal. And blood. So much blood.

His taste came back to him the the form of bile rising up from his throat.

Next came his sight.

His head bobbed from side to side. Listless. Exhausted. His eyes fluttered open and he blinked as the harsh white light flooded his vision. Everything was blurry. Unfocused.

He looked down at himself. He was undressed save for his boxers, limbs strapped tightly against a table. Something... not human stood over him. Nothing he'd ever seen before.

His brain was too muddled to figure it out.

He let his head flop to the side again. His already failing heart stuttered at what he saw.

Quill was laying beside him, also stripped and bound to a table. His skin was white and he was unconscious. Peter couldn't see if he was breathing or not.

Those same creatures stood over his friend, holding a strange device.

Peter's awareness and worry shot up several notches.

"Wha's tha?" His words came out jumbled and nonsensical. But the creatures paid him no mind, aiming the device over Quill's shattered chest and activating it.

His reaction was instantaneous.

Quill arched his back up from the table and _screamed._

"NO! LEAVE HIM ALONE!" Peter cried, his voice horse and damaged. He struggled weakly against his bonds, but exhaustion was already threatening to drag him back into it's comforting depths.

 _I can't sleep... Quill needs me..._

The screams drowned out all other sound, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut, praying for it to stop.

When he opened them again, more creatures came to stand over him.

"Please..." he begged. For Quill. For himself.

They held up another device like the one they used on Quill, directly over his collarbone.

A thrumming, almost magnetic sound reverberated throughout the room as the device was activated.

That's when his sense of feeling came back to him.

And along with it, absolute agony.

Peter's screams echoed Quill's as their bones were slowly cemented back into place.

His vision grew dim as the pain became too much. But he wasn't allowed any reprieve. The muscles and cords of his neck strained as he tried to twist away from the pain. He gathered what little energy he had, hoping he could use his superhuman strength to break free of the bonds. But the agony blinded him from everything, and he was paralyzed.

After an eternity the bone was finally snapped back into place. The creatures roughly unstrapped him from the table, pushing him onto his stomach and rebinding him. His freshly healed collar protested at the pressure.

He turned his head to Quill, who continued crying and writhing on the table. The device hadn't finished working on him yet.

"Please..." Peter moaned again, tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn't do anything as they harshly cleaned out the gaping wound on the back of his thigh. He bit back a groan as the abrasive cloth was rubbed into his flesh, a strange smelling liquid poured onto it. It _burned._

"Please stop!" He cried, but it came out more as a whisper, his voice raw and strained.

He froze completely when Quill's screams suddenly stopped altogether.

Peter tried to catch a glimpse of his friend, make sure he was okay, but the creatures moved to block his line of sight completely. One reached down to a metal tray, and picked up something long and sharp. It glinted dangerously in the white light.

He whimpered as they pushed the thick needle into his flesh of his thigh. He felt each time the needle pierced him, sewing him back together.

He had never experienced a pain like this before.

He cried until he could no longer hear his voice, his throat ravaged and body trembling.

Only when they began the same process on his injured shoulder did the darkness finally take him.

"Put those bastards on the line." Tony snapped as he stormed into the Wakandan bunker. Rocket, Strange, and Rogers followed closely behind, disheveled and tired looking, but otherwise unscathed.

All of the remaining Guardians were awake and waiting eagerly. Only a few of the others hadn't yet retired to their quarters, including T'Challa, Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, and Thor.

"The transmission is ready when you are," T'Challa stepped forward, a datapad in hand and tapping away. A large screen blinked to life, black and daunting.

Tony stepped in front of it, a deep scowl on his face. He felt Rocket and the others stand closely beside him.

He nervously tapped his foot against the ground, felt sweat beading at the nape of his neck, "Put us through."

He swallowed thickly as the signal was found, and the smiling face of Ebony Maw was revealed.

"Oh great! It's Squidward," Tony forced nonchalancy.

"Mm," the alien hummed, "My dear Mr. Stark. You look exhausted. Has something been troubling you?"

"Cut the crap," Tony snarled, "Where have you taken them?"

"No need to worry yourself, Stark. We have transported them to our Mothership, _Sanctuary ll."_ He motioned with long arms to the dark interior, "They are being well taken care of. In fact, our elite medical team is treating their many grievous wounds as we speak."

"I find that highly unlikely," Tony grit his teeth.

Maw's smile widened, "Would you like proof?"

Tony glanced down at Rocket, who's dark eyes glistened with conflict. Whatever they were about to see... it wasn't going to be easy. Rocket gave a nearly imperceptible nod and turned back to the screen, teeth bared.

"Just show us already, ya d'astard," Rocket growled, "stop drawing it out with your pretty words and lies."

"Dear Guardian, I am not lying," he grinned, "I will be more than happy to take you to your friends." He stepped away, and whatever was recording him followed as he trailed down the dark halls, hands clasped behind his back.

"We have one of the most prestigious medical facilities in the entire galaxy. Thanos demands only the very best. Especially for his guests." Maw continued as he walked. "Our team of professionals is incredibly efficient. Your friends should already be finished with their treatments, resting peacefully."

They passed into a new corridor, white and brightly lit. And surprisingly clean. A single large door sat at the end of the hall. Maw paused in front of it, as if listening.

"They are ready," he glanced back at the screen, and the door whooshed open.

Laying on two separate beds, mere feet apart from each other, were Parker and Quill. Both were unconscious, a thin white sheet draped up to their bare chests.

Quill had some sort of mask over his face, filling his lungs with what Tony hoped was just oxygen. Fresh stitches lined his left temple. There wasn't an inch of his neck or chest that wasn't mottled with deep bruises. Tony could feel the Guardians tensing behind him.

Peter lay to his left. Tony's heart stuttered at how incredibly pale he looked. He had a massive black bruise on his upper chest that wrapped over and around his shoulder and bicep. It stood out in stark contrast against the whiteness of his skin. He had more stitches in his shoulder than Tony could count. Who knew what else was hidden beneath the covers.

But what bothered Tony the most was the IV line sticking out of the crook of Peter's elbow.

"What are you pumping into him?" Tony demanded, trying to mask his worry.

Ebony Maw stepped up to Peter's bed, "No need to worry, Mr. Stark. Young Parker here lost a considerable amount of blood. We nearly lost him getting him here." He ran a sinewy hand down Peter's face. Tony wanted to slap it away.

"That doesn't answer my question." Tony bit out.

Maw furrowed his brow at Tony's abruptness, "Universal Plasma. Surprisingly many species are gifted with it. It is compatible with every living race in the known universe. Xandarians. Asgardians. Humans... even Hybrids..."

He motioned to Quill, coming to stand at the head of his bed. "Though we were fortunate that we didn't have to use the plasma on this one." He placed his hand atop Quill's forehead. The sound of Quill's breathing through the mask halted when Maw touched him. "He is... different. His human half is easy enough to manage. But his other half... we've never seen anything like it before." His pale blue eyes fell on Rocket, "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

"Nothing." Rocket's voice was short. But it was the slight wavering of confidence in the raccoon and the uncomfortable shifting from the other Guardians that told Tony he was lying.

"Mm," Maw hummed again, "No matter. We have collected some of his blood for research purposes. The child's as well." Tony was becoming increasingly more uncomfortable with how Maw was looking at Peter. "He is different too. For human standards. Stronger. More resilient. If the child were but a normal human, he would have already perished from his injuries. Yet he carries on." He moved to touch Peter again.

"Don't touch him!" Tony immediately regretted the words as they left his mouth. He knew it was important to remain impartial, especially in negotiations. But a swell of protectiveness surged within him, and he couldn't help it.

Ebony smiled wickedly, but withdrew his hand, clasping them behind his back once more. "What stroke of luck!" He had the gall to look gleeful, "Two human anomalies in one ship. I only hope I can get as much study out of them as I can before Thanos requires them."

Tony's heart jumped to his throat, "Requires them for what?"

"Well a trade of course, dear Mr. Stark." He cackled, "We know what you want, and you know what we want. Once these young ones are healed and able, we intend to strike a deal."

"Why doesn't Thanos just come and get the Stones himself?" Rogers spoke up for the first time.

"Dear Captain. You must understand, Thanos is incredibly patient. He has finally been given the opportunity to retrieve the last of the Stones without violence. He is on a quest for peace. He will not decimate Earth if he has no need to." He stood between the beds, satisfied with himself. "In a few days time when Star-Lord and Spider-Man are healthy, we will contact you again. In the meantime, consider our offer. I know you will make the right decision." The screen went blank.

The room was silent.

Tony slumped into the nearest chair, images of Peter, injured, unconscious, held _hostage_ playing over and over again in his mind. His heart even ached for Quill, and he hadn't even known him more than a week.

"Tony," he didn't even look up when Rogers placed a hand on his shoulder. "You know we can't make the trade."

He stared blankly at the wall ahead of him.

"I know."


	13. Chapter 13

When Peter blinked his eyes open, all he could see was blinding white.

In the corners, above him, around him, everywhere. It was all-encompassing. And he was so confused.

He groaned as he shifted where he lay, his bones and muscles protested at the movement. He bit back a yelp as his leg muscle was pulled, straining the tender skin.

But it wasn't the brightness or the pain or the grogginess that worried Peter. No. It was definitely the fact that he was bound by his wrists and ankles to the bed.

And Quill was nowhere to be seen.

 _No no no._

He found himself thinking for the millionth time that week. But all he could bring himself to say was "ughhhh."

He noticed a sensor spike on one of the monitors next to his bed, the lines and symbols nothing like he had ever seen before. Sticky pads where stuck to his shoulder over his wound. He couldn't see any lower than his chest, a thin white sheet was draped up to his hips.

A small bag hung over his bed, kinda like an IV pole would. A red cord ran out from it, down to the floor, and back up again, disappearing into the flesh of his forearm. Pumping deep red into his body. He hoped it was only blood.

He tried desperately to quell his rising panic. But it was fruitless. He struggled and fought against the bonds as the feeling of desperation overwhelmed him. The metal wouldn't budge.

The monitor spiked again, emitting a shrill ringing throughout the room. Peter tried raising his hands to his ears, but couldn't. His skin felt raw where he was bound.

He moaned and squeezed his eyes shut as the ringing filled his head. It _hurt._

 _Someone please help me!_

The sound heightened in pitch and then stopped altogether.

He breathed out a sigh, slumping against the bed.

The door whooshed open.

"Good morning, dear child," Ebony Maw seemed to float into the room, his silvery robes gently brushing the white floors.

His ugly face managed to offset his graceful entrance.

Peter tried to reign in his pain and fear, like Quill would have, and plastered his meanest frown on his face.

"Wh-" he coughed, his voice rough from misuse. "Where am I? Where's Quill?" He ground out. He didn't sound as fierce as he would've liked.

Maw was undeterred, and he smiled, gliding to Peter's side. "You are onboard the _Sanctuary ll,_ Thanos' mothership."

Peter's heart dropped into his stomach.

Maw chuckled as he tapped on the glowing monitor Peter was attached to, "No need to look so frightened, dear boy. We brought you here to save you. The _Sanctuary_ holds true to its namesake. You are here to heal and recuperate."

Peter highly doubted that. "And what else?" He asked, his voice low.

Maw's smile deepened, "Smart boy." He ran slender fingers down the length of the cord sticking into Peter's arm. "Thanos wishes to minimize death and violence if he can. And _you_ have some very powerful friends on Earth. Powerful and vulnerable. We believe we can avoid any... uneccessary altercations by striking a bargain." His nails grazed Peter's arm lightly.

He shuddered. Quill was right.

"What makes you think they'd trade the Stones for us?" He said, flinching away from the unwelcome touch.

"Think? No, no, dear boy. _Know_ is the correct term. In all my studies of human culture, I've found that they are a highly emotional species. They struggle letting go of attachments. They love too deeply, care too fully." He rested his cold hand on Peter's bicep. " _That_ is why I know they will make the trade."

"And what if they don't?" He wanted to be petulant. Wanted Maw to be agitated. Just like he was. Agitated that these stupid aliens couldn't see how messed up and twisted they were. How could wiping out half the universe ever be a good idea?

Maw frowned slightly, turning back towards the monitors. "Well, then I suppose we can just continue to use you and your friend for our studies. After we obliterate Earth, of course. You both have some... interesting qualities. You two are truly one of a kind. I doubt there is anyone else in existence that shares your unique DNA."

He circled around the bed before stopping and staring Peter directly in the eyes. "You weren't born this way, were you?"

Peter held his tongue. There was no way these wackos were getting any info from him.

The alien's frigid gaze pierced him and he couldn't help but look away.

"No. I didn't think so," Maw hummed. "But your friend on the other hand... he wasn't born human. At least not fully. He is a rare hybrid. Something truly powerful and ancient resides in his blood."

"Where. Is. Quill." Peter bit out, rage threatening to surface at the talk of his friend. He hoped they hadn't taken him somewhere to do experiments on him.

Maw gave him a quizzical look, his wrinkled lips pulling up at the sides. "No worries, boy. We aren't going to put either of you through the testing phase just yet," he smirked, and Peter wanted to punch him. "Peter Quill is elsewhere, still recovering from his injuries. He requires extensive breathing treatments for his damaged lungs. He is very lucky we found him. As are you. You were both at Death's door when we brought you here."

"Maybe you should've left us to die," Peter said darkly.

"Is that a threat?" Maw's eyes glistened with cold mirth.

Peter stared back unrelenting. He wondered if Mr. Stark would be proud.

Maw cocked his head slightly to the side, ever grinning. "Perhaps we should have left you. We know not the true nature of your abilities." The holo monitors flickered out and disappeared, "But rest assured, young one, you are being held in the most highly guarded ship in the galaxy. You will be met with heavy resistance should you or your friend attempt to escape." He reached down, clasping Peter's face tightly in his hand, fingernails digging into his skin. "Rest assured."

Peter's skin stung as Maw pulled his hand away. The alien waved his hand and the metal bindings unclasped from the bed, letting Peter free. The metal, however, was still tightly bound around his wrists and ankles, like silver bracelets. The teen stared up at him in confusion.

"Up, child. You no longer require medical assistance. I will take you to your living quarters." He clasped his hands behind his back, and stood at the door, waiting expectantly.

Peter sat up warily, holding back a wince at the short bursts of pain that jolted through his body. He held his breath as he pulled the IV lead from his arm, rubbing away the drop of blood bubbling up from the puncture wound.

He pulled back the covers to find himself in his boxers, nothing else.

"Uh-"

"You will have a change of clothes provided for you in your quarters." Maw motioned with his arm towards the exit.

Peter glared. He was to be paraded around the ship wearing next to nothing. Humiliating. But he didn't let his embarrassment show. He swung his legs to the side of the bed, ignoring the vertigo and nausea, and stood.

The moment he balanced himself, his arms shot behind him as if magnetized. The metal bracelets converged on each other, binding his wrists at his back. High tech handcuffs. Great.

His glare deepened as he left the room. His steps were wobbly, but he held his head high and proud. He wasn't going to be shaken. Even though inside all he could feel was growing terror.

He noticed two masked guards come up behind him to keep him from misbehaving, electric staffs in hand. The weapons looked kinda like the ones in that Star Wars movie, with the cool robots. In fact, this entire ordeal reminded him of Star Wars. The weirdly pristine halls. The robots. The aliens. The holograms. If he closed his eyes he could just pretend he was on Darth Vader's ship. Pretend that he was a Jedi. He could escape. They always did in the movies.

He really wished he had brushed up on his Star Wars trivia before he came here. Maybe Quill would know more.

But then he realized that Quill was MIA out in outer space during most of the Star Wars movies.

 _Oh my gosh, does he even know Vader is Luke's father?_

He shook his head, his thoughts getting away from him. His distractedness often served as a kind of self preservation when he was in bad situations. This was no different.

They walked through the halls, and Peter tried to spot anything that could potentially be a means of escape. But there was nothing. Just halls and ceilings of bright white.

They came to a wall, and Maw stopped in front of it. There was no door to be seen. Just smooth wall.

Peter gazed around, waiting. Maw waved his hand again, and the wall suddenly opened up, revealing another room dressed in blinding white.

The guards shoved Peter none to lightly into the space.

"Welcome to your new quarters, young Peter Parker." Maw bowed his head slightly, arm extended.

Peter stepped slowly into the room. It was small. Two white, clean beds sat on either side of the room, much like a college dorm. There were no furnishings, but he spotted what must've been a bathroom door to the left. Despite the brightness of the light, it still felt remarkably cold.

Yet it was a better living situation than Peter imagined he would get. He had half expected a dirty grey cell with questionable body fluids stained on the floor. The lack of chains and torture devices strewn haphazardly about was somewhat comforting.

Ebony Maw stepped towards the entrance, tall and formal, "Mr. Quill will be joining you once he is well. Make yourself comfortable, young one." He smiled, and the wall closed, leaving a completely smooth surface. As if there wasn't even an opening to begin with.

Peter sighed as he relaxed his muscles, just realizing how tense he really was. He walked over to the bathroom door which opened and revealed a small toilet, sink and shower. Clean clothes lay folded on the toilet lid.

He grabbed for the clothes, before deciding that a shower would actually be pretty nice. If, of course, it wasn't actually a poisonous gas shower. He wouldn't put it past Thanos and his minions to stoop so low.

But he decided he would take his chances, and he pressed the shower button. He was relieved when only clear water came from the ceiling. He stripped out of his boxers and stepped in, relishing the feeling of warm water on his aching body.

He rested his hand against the wall and wondered how the hell they were supposed to get out of this mess. He hoped Quill healed quickly. He didn't want to be alone.

He washed himself with a strange jelly liquid that lathered well and had no scent, and stepped out.

He nearly fell back in shock when a vent materialized from the ceiling, sending a powerful gust of air down onto him. It effectively dried him off, but left his heart racing. He watched as the vent disappeared, replaced with smooth, white ceiling.

So much for escaping through the vents.

He unfolded the clothes, finding a pair of simple black pants, similar to the ones Quill always wore, and a light grey long sleeve shirt. He slipped them on, and stared at himself in the mirror.

He looked awful. He was much too pale. His face was thin from lack of food and nourishment. The dark circles under his eyes a testament of his exhaustion.

He sighed and shuffled tiredly to the bedroom, falling onto the bed. It wasn't really soft, but it was better than anything he'd had over the past week. He pulled the thin covers over himself and fell asleep.

He dreamed of death.


	14. Chapter 14

Peter wasn't sure how long he'd been stuck alone in his bright prison. He guessed it'd been maybe 3 days. He spent most of it sleeping, his wounds slowly mending. Sometimes he cried.

Every several hours, the strange aliens would bring him a bowl of soup. It was the same thing every time. Warm. Brown. But actually pretty good. It reminded him of the beef stew Aunt May would make around Christmastime.

He quietly wondered why he wasn't suffering at the hand of Thanos or his minions. There were no beatings. No experiments. No starvation. He was allowed to use the bathroom and drink water and sleep all he wanted. It was unsettling.

And Quill still hadn't shown.

Towards the end of the third day, he became bored. So he did what any sane prisoner would do, and he began beating his fists heavily on the smooth white wall.

"Hey!!" He yelled, "Hey you stupid uglier Squidward! Why'd you leave me here?? Where's Quill?!?"

He glared at the walls surrounding him. There were no signs of cameras in his room, but the advanced technology of this ship told him he was definitely being watched somehow.

"I know you can see me, assholes!" He said. He knew he wasn't being smart. But he was tired and his patience was waning thin, "Why don't you just get on with whatever you're planning on doing to me?? Huh??" He slammed his palm against the wall.

Nothing.

"Stupid aliens and their stupid stupid evil plans," Peter leaned against the wall, sliding down slowly. He sighed as he rested his head against his knees. "Quill, where are you?" He whispered.

He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. His exhaustion and stress was taking a major toll on his emotions. He found himself in an inescapable circle of anger, guilt, fear, and sadness. They'd flip on like a switch. One thought would lead to another, and send him spiraling. He found himself childishly yearning for his soft bed. For Aunt May's loving kisses on his head. For home.

He wondered just how far away from home he really was. He shook his head. Maybe it was better not to think about that.

Instead he nodded off and fell asleep.

Peter was awoken abruptly as his hands shot suddenly behind him, the magnetized bonds connecting and sending him off balance. He fell to his side with a grunt, the motion aggravating his tender shoulder.

He worked his way into a sitting position, and watched the wall with earnest. It finally opened up, revealing the exhausted face of Peter Quill.

The man was pushed roughly into the room by the alien guards. He stumbled, nearly falling to the ground as he lost his footing. His hands were bound just like Peter's.

Quill stared down the guards with deadly eyes, and straightened himself, trying to maintain a face of dignity despite the nature of his physical state.

He looked awful, much like Peter did on his first day. He was half-naked, his boxers his only clothing. Peter grit his teeth. Why did these aliens take such pleasure in humiliating them?

Peter scanned his friend for any further injuries, finding the multitude of bruises littering his torso had yet to heal completely. Quill was very pale. Obviously exhausted and pained. But he was alive. Peter couldn't help but breathe out a sigh of relief.

"Reunited at last," the sickly voice of Ebony Maw sent tingles down Peter's spine as the alien rounded the corner. He was dressed lavishly, just as before, a nasty smile plastered on his face. "You see? I told you it wouldn't be long until you saw your friend again." He gazed at Peter with cold eyes. "We brought him back to you in next to excellent condition-"

"Oh shut up, Maw." Quill snapped, and Peter's heart soared to hear his voice. It was hoarse and quiet, but resolute, and so very Quill-like. It made Peter feel safe.

Maw's eyes flashed with annoyance, but he shielded it well as he straightened himself. "Now now, Mr. Quill. That is no way to treat your humble host."

"Host? Ha! Some host you are. Listen, if you really wanna be a good host, bring me some breakfast in bed. Maybe some Eggo waffles with OJ. And while you're at it, get me a couple extra soaps. Maybe make some little animals out of towels. Love that stuff. It's all about the amenities-"

"Enough!" Maw shouted. Peter was elated that their captor had finally caved at Quill's rambling. Maw tented his hands in front of him, forcing a thin smile.

"You two _children_ will be joining me tomorrow for a meal. I suggest you clean yourself up, _Quill."_ His gaze drifted over to Peter, "And you dear boy. Make sure your friend here behaves himself. We wouldn't want him to have any... unfortunate accidents. Especially after we worked so hard to piece back together his entire rib cage." He patted Quill a little too harshly against his chest, and the Guardian grimaced.

Maw turned away from the door, turning his head back towards them with a smirk, "We will be meeting soon. Rest and be ready. We have much to discuss." And he was gone, swallowed up behind the white wall.

The magnetic bonds released, and the boys were freed. Peter scrambled up to his feet.

"Quill?" His voice trembled.

"Hey, Petey."

Peter crossed the distance and embraced the man, his head buried in the crook of Quill's neck. He didn't even try to stop the warm tears that streamed down his cheeks.

"I thought they killed you." His voice was muffled, and he felt Quill rub small circles on his back.

"Killed me? Naw, kid. I'm too cool for that." He rested his chin against Peter's head. "Besides, if I died, then you'd never be able to give me a tour New York like you promised me. We can't have that." He pulled away and tousled Peter's hair, grinning widely.

Peter stepped away, wiping his face hastily with the back of his hand. He blushed out of embarrassment at his open emotions.

"Hey, don't worry about it." Quill waved him off and moved to sit on one of the beds.

"Uh, that's actually _my_ bed," Peter challenged, albeit playfully.

"Ooooooh. Your bed?" Quill smirked. "Too bad, kid. It's mine now." He flopped himself against it, spreading his limbs out to cover the entire frame.

"Alright then." Peter shrugged, "but you can't imagine what crazy stains I found under those sheets."

Peter laughed as Quill practically volted from the bed, the motion was obviously exaggerated. But Peter didn't fail to catch the small wince that betrayed Quill's pain at the movement.

"Are you okay?" Peter stepped forward in worry.

"I'm fine. Just a bit bruised." He leaned against the wall. "What about you? They fix you up?"

"Yeah," Peter said. "I think they gave me some blood too. I feel a lot better. At least better than I did when I first came here."

Quill raised his eyebrows. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. 3 days maybe."

Quill whistled, "Geez. I'm sorry kid."

"It's okay. Gave me time to think I guess. Sleep. It's amazing what a real bed can do." Peter forced a smile. He looked at Quill again and frowned. "Do you remember what happened? How we got here?"

The older man sighed, "No. All I remember is falling down that cliff and slamming into some rocks. After that, I woke up to the pleasant surprise of surgery without anesthesia. But other than that, nothing."

Peter shook his head, "I can't remember either. After I pulled you to shore, I blacked out. I thought we'd been rescued, but that's obviously not the case." He laughed bitterly, sitting across from Quill on the other bed.

"Thanks for that by the way," Quill said, "Saving me."

"You did the same for me. Just paying it forward." He fiddled with the metallic bracelets at his wrist. "How do you think we're gonna get out of here?"

Quill sighed, folding his arms across his chest, looking very tired. "I don't know. But we'll figure it out."

Peter frowned again. "You really should get some rest. You don't look too well."

What concerned Peter even more was when Quill didn't argue with him. "Yeah," He said, pushing away from the wall and moving to the bathroom. "I won't be long." The door slid shut behind him.

Peter sat on the bed, listening to the sound of shower water running, relieved that his friend was back and whole. He wondered how in the hell any part of their situation would end well.

Several minutes passed, and finally the door opened. Quill stepped out dressed in the same black pants and gray shirt as Peter, his hair dripping in auburn curls and his color a bit more healthy.

"How do you feel now?" Peter asked.

"Better," Quill answered truthfully. He stepped over to the bed, pulling back the covers and practically melting into the mattress. "Better get some sleep before we have our special "meal" with our gracious "host" tomorrow." He made air quotes with his fingers.

"What do you think is going to happen?" Peter ventured, anxiety creeping into his tone.

"Honestly? I don't know." Quill said, "We aren't on Terra anymore. This is their playing field, and they have every advantage. I suggest you stay quiet, and let me do the talking." He paused. "And don't give away _any_ information about the Stones. At all costs."

Peter nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "But what if they... you know... try to get it out of us somehow?"

Quill was quiet. "I won't let anyone hurt you, Peter." He looked Peter straight in the eyes. "I promise."

Peter nodded once, swallowing hard. Quill smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

Minutes passed in dense silence, until Quill's eyes drooped closed in exhaustion. Peter let him sleep. He sorely needed it.

The teen drew his knees up to his chest, and couldn't help but feel like some promises were going to be broken.


	15. Chapter 15

"Up humans!"

A gruff voice startled the Peters from their fitful rest. Peter's reflexes sent him jolting straight out of bed, muscles tensed and ready. But it was only one of those strange aliens with its strange electric staff. His shoulder throbbed.

Peter glanced over at Quill, who was moving much more slowly, groggily rubbing sleep from his eyes. The man's color had improved drastically from the day before, but there was still a great deal of exhaustion apparent in the lines of his face.

"Now!" The alien was impatient, his words garbled in its strained attempt at English. It clenched its fists and muttered a few sentences in a foreign tongue, but Quill seemed to pick up on it.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever man." Quill said, scowling, "Tell Maw to give us five. Alrighty?" He rolled gingerly out of bed, stretching his arms and neck, taking his good time.

The alien gave him a pointed look.

"Go on now, shoo." Quill waved him off, and the alien stalked away, grumbling. "Stupid Chitauri. Can't take a hint."

"I think those are the same aliens that attacked New York awhile back." Peter mumbled, heading to the bathroom to wash his face.

"Aliens attacked New York?" Quill raised his eyebrows, following Peter to the doorway, "Any other crazy things happen on Earth that I should know about?"

Peter splashed water on his face, savoring the coolness. "Crazier than what's going on now? Not much. Mr. Stark and I have had our fair share of bad guys, but nothing else really. That I know of anyway," Peter paused, "Actually, there was this thing in Missouri a few years ago. It was like this big blue blob thing. It almost destroyed the entire town. A lot of people died." He dried his face, "Never found out what it was."

Peter pulled the towel from his face and turned to his friend, only to find him pale and stiff as a board, eyes distant. Like he was remembering something. For just an instant, Peter could've sworn he'd seen a swirl of stars in Quill's green eyes.

"Quill?" Peter asked, trying to keep the wariness out of his voice.

The man shook himself from his daze, eyes fixing directly onto Peter's, the sadness and faraway look gone completely. He plastered a fake grin on his face.

"Ready to get this over with, Petey?" He set a gentle hand on Peter's shoulder. The teen frowned. Maybe it was best to just let it go.

"I guess."

"Remember, be quiet and let me do the talking. Who knows what kind of tricks he'll try to use to get us to talk."

"Got it," Peter nodded, anxiety tripling.

He couldn't get those eyes out of his head.

* * *

They were led by the Chitauri through the bright halls, hands restrained by their magnetic bonds. Peter could see Quill's eyes scanning the surroundings with fervor. But the ship was so massive, there was no way to map out the endless corridors and hallways. Nothing atypical to help plan an escape route. It was just... white. After what felt like an eternity, they finally came to their destination.

"Your host awaits you," the alien said roughly before the door hissed open. Their hands fell to their sides, free of their bonds. Ebony Maw sat patiently at the head of a long white table filled with food, hands tented and expression calm.

"Come, Young Mr. Parker, Mr. Quill. Have a seat," he motioned to the two seats at his side. His voice was eerily pleasant, his demeanor almost... kind?

Quill made no move, standing defiantly at the edge of the room. Peter stood quietly by in support.

Maw's eyes narrowed, "I said _have a seat."_ He flicked his wrist, and an unseen force pulled the two humans forward, sending them neatly (but painfully) to their seats. Peter huffed out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

"Was that really necessary?" Quill snapped. There was no hint of mirth in his voice.

"No forceful means will be necessary if you both simply cooperate." Maw waved his hands to the Chitauri, sending him on his way.

They were alone.

"Don't be shy. Eat. The food is truly delicious. And you must be starving." Maw lifted a fork-like appliance and speared it into something bright purple, before popping it into his mouth.

Quill was cold as ever, jaw taut and brows furrowed in silent rebellion. Peter wrung his hands in his lap, his eyes darting back and forth between Quill and Maw.

Maw frowned and turned his attention to Peter, "Dear child, don't let this fool deter you. Fill your belly. I know you haven't had a decent meal in-"

"No, Peter." Quill cut him off sharply.

Maw leaned back in his chair, studying Quill. A small smile crept onto his face, "You think I am trying to poison you, don't you?" He chuckled, "You humans. Dramatizing everything. Believe me, even I would never do something so predictable." And with that, he leaned forward and stabbed a piece of fruit off of Peter's plate. He chewed it slowly, politely, before swallowing. "See?"

Peter's stomach grumbled. The food _did_ look and smell decadent. Much better than the brown stew he'd been eating. And he _was_ starving. And Maw _did_ just prove to them it wasn't poisoned.

He glanced across to Quill, eyes silently pleading. Like a toddler begging for a cookie.

Quill's nod was nearly imperceptible, but Peter caught on, and ravenously dove in. He didn't even care if he was eating weird alien meat or something. All he knew was that it was food and he wanted it in his mouth.

Maw looked at him with veiled disgust, "I suppose adolescents are the same in every race." He quipped.

"Oh god, just cut with the pleasantries and shit, Maw. What did you bring us here for?" Peter had never seen Quill so serious.

"You aren't going to satisfy your hunger, Mr. Quill?"

"Not hungry," he folded his arms. Peter slowed his chewing, slightly embarrassed at his inability to curb his appetite.

"What. Do. You. Want." Quill bit out.

Maw tutted, "So ill-mannered. But I suppose it makes sense, for a man raised by pirates." Quill's eyes flashed, but he remained silent. Maw set down his silverware, weaving his fingers together, "I merely brought you here to talk. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"Yeah right," Peter mumbled in between a bite of juicy meat. Quill shot him a look and his cheeks reddened as he looked down.

"I understand your uncertainty. You're in an unfamiliar location surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Some of which you may deem as a threat."

"Uh, I don't care who you are. Anyone who advocates for the destruction of half the universe is a threat to me." Quill growled.

"We are not advocates for destruction. We are advocates for _life_. Your limited comprehension keeps you from recognizing that."

"Then why not just, oh I don't know, _make new resources_ with the power of the Stones? Isn't that the whole reason why Thanos wants to do the snappity-snap? So people won't run out of resources?" Quill sat back, "That seems _infinitely_ more reasonable than wiping out half the Universe."

"Young Star-lord. It isn't that simple." Maw grinned, obviously enjoying the questioning. "First of all, the properties of the Infinity Stones is partially that of destruction. Devestation. _You_ of all people should know that." Quill grit his teeth. "Secondly, despite all the life giving properties of the Stones, Thanos can't just leave the vast majority of the Universe to its squalor. It needs cleansing. Murderers, rapists, kidnappers - _so many_ would be flushed out."

"Including innocents. Children. Infants." Quill retorted.

"All necessary sacrifices." Maw replied solemnly.

"For what, the 'greater good'?"

"Precisely."

"Humor me then," Quill smirked, "Let just say, figuratively, Thanos manages to collect all the Stones and snaps his fingers. To bring about a "better galaxy," or whatever the hell you think it is you're doing. What if you and Thanos and his minions get nixed in the process? Did any of you think of that as a possibility?"

"We've thought of _all_ possibilities," Maw sneered, "And we are _all_ willing to make that sacrifice should it come down to it."

"Well so are we." Peter said, sitting up straight. Quill didn't stop him this time. Peter caught the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

Maw sighed, "I suppose there truly is no way to illustrate to you the full scope of _goodness_ Thanos is trying to bring to the Universe."

Quill snorted, "Try me."

"Very well then." Maw raised his hand towards Quill, closing his eyes. Peter watched on in mounting fear.

At first nothing happened. Quill glanced at Peter with a look that read _"What the hell is this guy on?"_ But then the half-human's jaw tightened, his head dipped forward. His fists were clenched, knuckles turning white.

"What are you doing to him?" Peter's voice rose in alarm.

Quill squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling. He fell to the floor on his hands and knees, a grunt of pain escaping him. Peter pushed up from the table, chair clanging to the floor behind him. "Stop! You're hurting him!"

Maw never wavered, hand aimed towards Quill in tense concentration. Then the alien balled his fist.

A hoarse cry tore from Quill's lips, and he fell to his side gasping for breath. Blood spilled from his nose.

"I said STOP!" Peter cried, and rushed forward, grabbing Maw by the neck and throwing him into the wall. _Hard._

Maw's hold on Quill was released, and the man slumped boneless against the floor.

"Quill?!" Peter knelt quickly beside his friend, rolling him over. He was relieved to find him conscious, albeit slightly pale.

"I'm okay," Quill gasped, shakily sitting up. He wiped the blood from his face with the back of his sleeve. "Sonuva bitch."

"Are you sure?" Peter helped the man to his feet, supporting him when he wavered.

"Yeah... but he's not." Quill motioned to Maw, who was slowly collecting himself from the Maw-sized hole in the wall where Peter had thrown him.

"Shit." Peter breathed.

"Yeah," Quill barked out a humorless laugh. "Let's get outta here-" he was interrupted by that same unseen force, keeping them both in place.

"You foolish _child,"_ Maw rose to his feet, arm outstretched, magic holding them still. "You will regret that."

But before Ebony Maw could keep to his promise, the doors whooshed open. Proxima Midnight and Corvus Glaive stood at the entrance. Proxima stepped forward, surveying the damage to the room with disinterest. "It's time to make the exchange."

Maw nodded, collecting himself as Corvus Glaive stalked into the room, looming tall above the two humans with his spear in hand.

"Bring them."


	16. Chapter 16

Tony paced the halls, wringing his hands and mumbling to himself as his wood-soled shoes echoed loudly against the Wakandan fortress floors. The other Avengers and Guardians milled about the place. Some helped where they could.

"Wouldja quit that tappin'? I'm this close to losin' my shit and you antsy humies ain't doing nothin' to help." Rocket growled from where he sat, fiddling with what looked dangerously like a hydrogen bomb.

"Maybe if we actually managed to get a connection I'd be a bit more at ease," Tony spat, "but considering that everyone here is just sitting on their asses and playing with bombs, I think my "tapping" can be easily justified."

Rocket sniffed but didn't respond, going back to his fiddling.

"I am Groot?" the teenaged tree asked quietly.

"Yeah, maybe if these Terrans managed to get the sticks out of their butts we'd have Quill back with us by now." Rocket said loudly for the whole room to hear. "No wonder he hightailed it off this planet when he was a kid, bunch of losers."

Tony groaned, "Everyone knows Quill was kidnapped by space pirates." As an afterthought he added, "If he actually stayed on Earth he'd probably have grown up to be a shoeshiner or something."

"What's a shoeshiner? Sounds badass."

A pause.

"An assassin." Tony said straight-faced.

"Quill does not have the physical makeup of a shoeshiner," Drax intoned thoughtfully as he sharpened his knives for the millionth time. "He is too fleshy and soft."

"What about this guy?" Rocket motioned to Bucky, who stood leaning against the wall, arms folded, "Hey robo arm. You're a shoeshiner, right?"

"Yes." Bucky deadpanned.

Steve snickered, and the others fought to suppress grins. Thor was just as clueless as the rest.

"Knew it," Rocket said, "He's the only one of ya humies with any reputable qualities. And he's got genetic modifications. Figures."

"You'd be surprised at how many of us have genetic modifications, Racoon." Tony quipped.

Rocket fell silent at that. The group returned to their milling.

"Damn if this isn't taking forever." Tony took up pacing once more.

"It's only a matter of time, Tony." Steve said, "Everyone's been working hard."

"And it's brought us no closer to finding them." He shot back.

It had been several days since their last connection with Maw. Several days since Tony saw Peter last. When he wasn't working and was able to sleep, constant nightmares plagued him of Peter hooked up to machines, bloodless, the heart monitors slowing and then ceasing forever. He prayed that Maw kept his promise to allow the boys to heal.

Suddenly, the large gray doors whooshed open, and in strode T'Challa. "We got it." His voice rang triumphantly.

"You got a connection?" Tony couldn't keep the hopefulness from his voice.

"Yes," the king flashed a brilliant grin.

"Thank God." Tony breathed, "Is it foolproof?"

"We had four of the smartest people on the planet on the case, so yes, I believe it is foolproof."

Tony looked to Steve, who gave him a reassuring 'I-told-you-so' smile, then to the Guardians, who still looked just as confused and worried as ever.

"Why are we standing and smiling strangely at each other?" Drax mumbled, "Have we found their location?"

"We think so, big guy," Tony smiled, his first sincere smile in weeks. He walked towards the door, patting the Destroyer on his massive bicep.

He was going to bring Peter home.

The entire group moved to the conference room, where a massive black tv loomed over a large oak table and chairs. They quickly took their seats and waited with bated breath.

The tv sprang to life, and the hideous face of Ebony Maw grinned crookedly back at them.

"Hello everyone," the alien smiled as his beady eyes took in the room before him, "Looks like we have quite the audience today."

"Where are they?" Tony demanded.

"Oh? You don't want to chat?" Maw was returned with glares. "Pity. Oh well. Here are your friends, healed and rested just as we promised." He motioned to the door, and in walked Peter Parker and Peter Quill, escorted by two Chitauri guards. Tony's heart jumped with joy to see them off the IV's and ventilators. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs, but they looked altogether healthy, apart from the small stain of blood on Quill's gray sleeve.

"Mr. Stark!" Peter exclaimed, chocolate eyes bright with excitement.

"That won't be necessary. I believe the Earthlings are prepared to meet our trade, is that correct?" Maw said calmly, beckoning for the boys to come forward.

The Chitauri led them to the middle of the screen, before kicking out the back of their legs, forcing them to their knees.

"Bitch, really?" Quill growled, shaking his head. "You coulda just asked. God."

"They haven't hurt you, have they?" Steve asked, blue eyes scanning.

Quill snickered, but Maw interrupted him, "That was never part of our agreement, Captain."

"You promised you wouldn't hurt them." Tony snapped.

"No, I promised that they would be returned to you healed and able. That doesn't mean we didn't have a little bit of fun in between." His eyes glistened with mirth. "It's too bad they will no longer be our guests. I was really looking forward to some of our more... entertaining activities."

"Don't make the trade Mr. Stark!" Peter burst out frantically, "We're not worth it!" Maw grabbed the boy by the back of his neck, silencing him.

"You would do well to cease your prattling, boy." He seethed, digging sharp fingernails into skin. Peter's eyes were wide with fear.

"Let go of him, you piece of-" Quill began, but was quickly stopped by a fist to his stomach. He doubled over coughing.

Tony really wished they would stop talking.

"We won't be making the trade." Tony said, and the room quieted. The words gutted him. His heart broke at the shocked expressions he received from Quill and Peter, and he couldn't meet their gaze, "Not yet."

Ebony Maw's smiled fell, "And why is that?"

T'Challa stepped in for Tony, "Our friend, the red android named Vision. We wish to extract the Stone from him while still preserving his life."

"The process is almost complete," Strange recited. "We only need a few more days at most. Once the Stone is removed, we will present both Stones to you in exchange for our friends."

"In the meantime we expect Parker and Quill to be treated with the utmost respect." Tony said, "No more 'games'."

"Now now, Mr. Stark. You know that's not how it works." Maw's smile returned as Corvus Glaive and Proxima Midnight entered the room and stood behind the boys. The Chitauri guardsmen left.

"We accept the terms of the trade. But the promise of their health is now void. Tardiness will not be tolerated." Maw motioned to Glaive who placed his clawed hand on Peter's shoulder. "Until the trade is finalized, they belong to us." Maw nodded, and Glaive sunk his filthy claws deep into Peter's still-healing shoulder.

Peter cried out in agony as the claws ripped deeply through his skin and down towards his back. Tony stood and shouted, his agony matching Peter's as he watched his lifeblood drip to the floor. Peter pitched forward as Glaive released the clawed hold from his flesh, but the monster grabbed him by the hair, holding him up for all to see. Tears glistened in the boy's eyes. He looked on the verge of passing out.

"You son of a bitch! I'll kill you!" Quill snarled and lunged toward Glaive, but Proxima was quicker. She grabbed the half-human by the collar and yanked him back, throwing him to the floor. She landed several harsh kicks to his torso and face, until finally she hoisted him up, holding a knife to his throat.

"Silence, human." She threatened, almost bored sounding. "I can't believe our sister ever fell for such a fool as you."

"Ooo, this is becoming quite the afternoon." Maw clasped his hands together in elation as he watched everything unfold.

Quill's bruised face met Tony's, hazel eyes shining with resolve. "I won't let them hurt 'em, Stark. I promise 's gonna get home to you safe." He said through bloodied teeth. Tony nodded, heart swelling with gratitude as Quill spoke. Dammit, why was he feeling such a surge of fatherly protection over him now? "I promise." Quill repeated. Proxima backhanded him with the hilt of her knife. She tied a ruddy gag around his mouth as Glaive did the same for Peter.

"You see?" Maw was practically radiating with glee. "We could easily kill both of them now, but as a courtesy to you, we will treat them as Thanos treats any of his many special guests."

Peter looked tiredly up at Tony. A single tear streaked down his face.

"Don't you touch them again!" Tony broke with fury. The others had all stood as well, equal signs of rage and vengeance on their faces. "I swear to god, I will tear you to pieces, Maw!"

"You had better hurry up then." Maw smiled, then the transmission went black.

Tony turned and ran his fist through the drywall, tears of anger and frustration threatening to spill. He fell to his knees in dismay.

Steve kneeled beside him and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder, and asked the question no one else had the heart to ask. "Did it go through?"

T'Challa looked up from his datapad, "Yes." He seemed almost shocked. The relief was apparent in his tone.

"Where?" Tony looked up, emotionally drained.

"200 miles from the moon."

Tony couldn't keep the smile from his face.

Thanos would pay.


	17. Chapter 17

Quill grunted as he and Peter were thrown bodily back into their ivory room, the latter biting back a cry of agony. Quill moved to support the teen as he writhed, red blood smearing against the white of the floor.

"I'm afraid our hospitality toward you and your young friend will reflect your behavior from now on, until your friends make their end of the trade." Maw leered down at them, a slight smile on his unsightly face, "I am truly sorry."

"At least give me some medicine-something! So I can treat him!" Quill pleaded as Peter trembled in his arms.

Maw tutted, "I'm afraid little boys who act out of line do not deserve special treatment."

"He'll bleed out!" Quill began to panic.

"I'm sure he'll be just fine," Maw grinned a knowing smile, and then he was gone, disappeared behind the smooth white wall.

Quill sat back holding Peter close, a billion swear words whirling through his mind. The kid whimpered, and Quill pressed a firm hand over the gaping wound. The gash ran from Peter's shoulder, all the way down between his shoulder blades. Quill's hand couldn't staunch the flow of blood from a wound so big.

"Hey, Petey. Shhhh it's gonna be okay." He placed his blood soaked hand over Peter's chest, feeling the frantic _thump thump_ of his heart beneath his palms. "You stay here for a sec, okay? I'm gonna get stuff to patch you up." As Quill moved to stand, Peter made a nearly silent plea.

"Please stay..." a pause, "it's really bad, huh?"

Quill stared into Peter's dark eyes, glistening with wetness. His face was too pale. But Quill was a good liar. So he lied.

"Nah, it's just a scratch!" He faked a smile, but panic was threatening to burst his heart from his chest, "Nothing I can't fix."

"But you just... said a second ago..." His voice trailed off, "...bleed out..."

"I was just foolin' with Maw. Made 'em think we're weaker than we really are." Quill shifted the boy in his arms, rising to his feet, "That'll give us an advantage over them when you get better."

"'m get better?" Peter's eyes fluttered. Quill swallowed.

"Yes." Then he acted.

He held the teen in one arm and shucked away the blanket from the bed. He knew there was no time to lose. If he didn't work quickly Peter would die. He sat Peter on the side of the bed, quickly but gently pulling the stained gray shirt off his head. He helped lay the teen on his belly. Quill blanched when the white sheets immediately soiled with red around where Peter lay.

"Ok, you just stay here Petey. I'll be right back." The teen nodded, but his consciousness was rapidly dwindling. Quill rushed to the bathroom, eyes darting around to find anything he could possibly use to help Peter. But he didn't have to look far.

Laying to the side of the bathroom sink were supplies. Towels and suturing kits and a small bottle of what appeared to be medicine.

"What the hell...?" Quill began. And then it hit him. "Son of a bitch."

It was planned. The entire thing was preconceived. They had planned to injure Peter all along, regardless of how the trade went. _And they planned for him to survive it._

"What the hell are you up to, Maw?" Quill mumbled. He felt incredibly unsettled, but he knew that Peter needed him. He refused to let him die on his watch. So he piled the supplies into his hold and ran back to Peter, who had finally fallen into blissful unconsciousness.

"Okay Pete, let's do this thing," he muttered to himself as he began cleaning the wound. He couldn't help but keep his mouth running, especially under stress. According to the other Guardians, it was one of his more annoying coping mechanisms. But Gamora would reassure him when they were alone that she thought it was cute. Oh how he wished she were here right now.

Quill applied heavy pressure to the deepest part of the wound, while gently wiping away the blood and grime from Glaive's claws. Peter didn't respond. Despite Quill's worry, he was grateful. The kid had been through hell and back the past week or so. Peter's unconsciousness was a welcome gift if it meant he didn't have to feel the pain.

After the wound was cleaned and the majority of the blood cleared away, Quill threaded the needle and began to suture the gaping wound together. He worked quickly, his fingers deft and well-practiced from years of having to sew up his own wounds when nobody was there to do it for him. He stole glances at Peter's lax face, searching for any sign of change, but his face was serene, as if he were dreaming.

Quill cracked a smile. Despite everything he'd gone through, Peter held on. Quill saw so much of himself in Peter. His name. His recklessness. His perseverance. His desire to prove himself. His recklessness. Yes, Peter definitely checked that box twice. Yet, Quill saw great potential in the teen. More than he had ever seen in himself. Peter was kind. He was selfless. He was seventeen and had never killed or intentionally hurt anyone. Quill wished he could say the same about himself.

Quill knew he didn't have a conventional upbringing. Although Yondu loved Peter and even gave his life for him, he wasn't the best role model for young Peter Quill.

Instead of teaching the boy how to write in cursive, Yondu taught him how to hold his quad-blasters properly. Instead of teaching him how to drive a car, Yondu taught him how to navigate and use the Milano to take down an entire fleet of corpsmen in a single round of blaster fire. Instead of teaching him how to properly interact with people, Yondu taught him how to kill them.

Yondu was abusive, both emotionally and physically, towards Quill. Although the Centaurian rarely put a hand on the Terran, but he didn't do much to prevent others from doing it, especially when the child misbehaved. Quill learned to get used to sleeping in the air vents, far away from the other crew members who were always eager to find a reason to beat him to a pulp. But despite all of Yondu's shortcomings as a parent, he always protected Peter from real harm. And he did until his dying breath.

Quill let out a shuddering sigh, looking down at the rows of stitches on Peter's back. He wasn't even halfway done.

"You got this, kid." Quill spoke into the air. "You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. You saved my life. Countless others probably." He shifted, his body aching from his hunched position. "You just gotta fight this. Okay? I promise you that we're getting out of this. I don't know how. I don't even have five percent of a plan. Maybe four percent, but even that's pushing it." He was talking too much again. But he didn't really care, "You're going to get better and we're gonna figure a way out of here. Stark needs you. Your Aunt May needs you. And I'm sure MJ is just dying to give you a big fat smooch when you get home."

 _Maybe Gamora's waiting to give me a smooch too, wherever she is,_ he thought. His heart clenched. Cull Obsidian's words lingered in his head. _A soul for a soul._

Quill knew Tusky was probably just baiting him. Trying to draw out his emotion to get a leg up on the situation. He was still trying to convince himself that Gamora was alive. Maybe she was even trapped on the same ship as they were, waiting to be rescued. No. Not waiting to be rescued. Not his Gamora. She was probably several quadrants away, taking on Thanos himself. Maybe she was already looking for him.

They'd find each other soon enough.

Ever since that fateful day on Knowhere, he has loathed himself. He had almost killed Gamora. He did what no person should ever have to do. He pulled the trigger. But he did it for her. For the universe. Because she asked him to, and he loved her. More than anything.

Quill couldn't even feel relief when his gun burst into bubbles in his hand. He was going to kill Gamora. And then she was gone, leaving him to drown in the horror of what he almost did. His body trembled for hours until they touched down on Earth.

He hated himself.

But when he and Peter tumbled into the forest all those days ago, he finally snapped out of it. This teenager, this _kid,_ needed his help. He wasn't going to let anyone else down. Never again.

What he didn't expect was growing to care so strongly for Peter Parker.

He finally pulled the last stitch taut, tying it and applying the viscous medicine to the wound. He wrapped gauze around the boy's shoulder and chest, securing it in place. Quill knelt down next to the bed and placed his hand on Peter's head, smoothing back his hair.

"I'll be right back," he whispered, his own physical needs could no longer be ignored. Proxima Midnight had done a number on his ribs, and he could feel swelling on his face from where the knife hilt got him.

He stood in front of the sink, spitting blood into the basin. He raised his shirt, prodding at his bruised ribs. Nothing broken luckily. Quill was sure nothing could be worse than the torture he went through a few days ago as his crushed torso was viciously forced back into place. His cheek was bruised, and his temple had suffered a razor thin cut from the hilt.

Basically a normal day for Peter Quill.

He wiped off the blood and cleaned out his mouth, leaning his hands on either side of the basin.

"What are you gonna do, Starlord?" he asked himself. He felt so lost. "What am I supposed to do?" He looked to the ceiling for guidance. From God, his mom, Yondu. Anyone. No answer came, much like the rest of his life. He sighed and pulled away from the sink.

He walked into the room, and was about to go to his own bed when Peter shifted on the bed, letting out a soft moan.

"Hey kid," Quill rushed over, "Are you okay?"

Peter winced, squeezing his eyes shut, "hurts." His voice was hoarse from screaming.

"I know, I'm so sorry," Quill sat on the bed, leaning against the wall and pulling Peter into his arms. The boy's shoulders suddenly began to heave.

"Peter? What's wrong?" Quill searched his face frantically, checking the bandages for any leakage. But then he saw the tears streaming down Peter's face.

"I just wanna go home," Peter cried. "I-I'm s-so tired."

Quill couldn't stop the tears that crept down his face at those words. Peter was _so young._ So innocent. He didn't deserve any of this.

"I am too, Petey. I am too," He rested his chin on the teen's head, holding him a little tighter.

"We're gonna d-die here."

Their eyes met, and in that moment Quill knew he wouldn't let that happen.

"No. We're getting out of here." He squeezed Peter's good arm, "You haven't given me the grand tour of New York yet. I'm holding you to that promise." He grinned.

Peter grinned back, his face red and exhausted, but so full of trust. His head fell back against Quill's chest, his eyes fluttering shut as consciousness fled him.

"I'm getting you out of here, Petey," he whispered to his brother, "I promise."


End file.
